


Redhead's Short-ish Tumblr Drabbles

by RedHead



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 24,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHead/pseuds/RedHead
Summary: Each "chapter" is a new drabble. Chapter titles will include the ship (or 'gen'), content info (e.g., "smut, fluff, domestic, dark" etc), and any pivotal warnings.Ship tags added as I go; not tagging for characters or content or this would get silly-long. Most drabbles are coldflash but there's at least one for all the ships that end up tagged here. Sorry to clog up rarepair tags.





	1. coldflashwave - domestic, humour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: ColdFlashWave, attempted home renovation diy fail

 

  

“Who the hell bombed our kitchen?!” Mick roared in the entryway, already reaching for his gun.

“Mick, no no no, it’s–” Barry was in the middle of the room, kitchen tiles everywhere, sink and counters pulled out, even the cupboard doors were off.

“Who do I get to shoot?” he growled, stepping forward into the room.

Across it, leaning against one of displaced counters, Lenny sighed with an annoyed look. “No one. Except maybe Barry.”

“Barry?”

The younger man looked a little sheepish, rolling his shoulders up, “uh, surprise?”

Mick glanced around again, noticing a few more things. Like the cans of paint and veneer on the ground, the stack of their cupboard doors all sitting on the displaced kitchen island, the tools. 

He snorted. “What the hell, kid?”

Lenny came over, positively prowling and smirking. “Barry here wanted to renovate the kitchen for our anniversary tomorrow.”

“Looks lovely.”

Len chuckled and Barry groaned again. “No, okay, I’m not  _done_ , and Len agreed with me about this plan.”

Mick’s eyebrows went up. “You were in on this disaster zone?”

Lenny tried for cool but Mick knew he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “Well he  _said_  he could do it at superspeed–”

“I can!”

“Then what’s this,” Mick gestured around, “your masterpiece?”

Len smirked. Barry glared. “This is the last time I do anything nice for either of you.”

“Mhmm.” Mick just popped a beer out of the (thankfully still working fridge). “Leave the house repairs to me, Speedy. I actually know what I’m doing.”

“So do I! I just… forgot.”

“Forgot?” Len leaned forward on his elbows. “Do tell.”

“It’s how my short term memory works. I can read anything at superspeed and use it, I just… forget it fast.”

“So those books I returned to the library yesterday…” Lenny looked like the lightbulb was going on and Mick laughed.

“ _That’s_  where they went?!”

“The one thing he refuses to be a criminal about is taking advantage of the library. Good going, both of you.”

“I’ll just… back to the library.” Barry was pointing. Len sighed. Mick laughed. And then he caught sight of the color on the paint cans.

“Barry!” he roared at the lightning trail already down the street, no doubt. “We are not having a ‘sunset red’ kitchen you little–!”


	2. coldflash - stuck in closet, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: stuck in a closet? (someone asked this in choose-a-trope and now i'm craving it) :)

“I can’t believe this–”

“Would you keep your voice down–”

“Shhh–”

“ _You_  shhh.”

They both shut up and glared. They probably weren’t actually being too loud, whispering and hissing inside the tiny space. 

It wasn’t his  _smartest_  move, but Barry had sped them into the tiny closet as soon as the door had started to open, their mark returning home unexpectedly and coming in the door of the bedroom, but it was the best option. The bedroom door was the only exit, so they couldn’t streak past him without him know they were there, which they didn’t want at all. 

This was Snart’s fault; he’d said the guy should be out for another hour, and it was  _his_  job to grab what they needed from the man’s nightstand. Barry had just been along to supervise, and thank god he was.

Except… except that now they were tucked inside an ironing closet together. He knew because the only other thing in the closet was an ironing board, the space was barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

The man outside the closet was humming and by the sound of it, pulling clothes out of his dresser. Snart shifted ever so slightly and Barry swallowed back a sound. He’d been trying not to think about the fact that they were literally pressed together from knee to shoulder, but movement made it hard to forget.

Snart stilled. Then shifted again. Barry could kill him.

“Barry…” he whispered almost inaudibly by Barry’s ear, and damn if that didn’t make him shiver.

He shook his head. Nope. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t hard against Snart’s hip. Nope nope nope nope nope.

Snart shifted again, more deliberately. Barry made a strangled,  _quiet_  noise. Snart chuckled low next to his ear. Bastard.

“Nice.”

“I hate you,” Barry whispered back, just as quiet.

“Sure.”

Barry dropped his head onto Snart’s shoulder. Fuck it, he’d endure the teasing. A moment passed.

“Think he’s gone?”

Barry started, and realized he could hear the sound of the shower down the hall.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Didn’t think you could keep quiet enough for me to–”

A second later, Snart was kissing him.

Barry decided their tight confines weren’t all  _that_  bad after all.


	3. coldflash - fluff, morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: ColdFlash, being cute and full of fluff the morning after their first time together, with one of them having been a virgin before, I don't mind who :).

Everything felt soft and fuzzy, like he was most of the way in a dream still but coming out slow and groggy. He didn’t want to wake up, feeling warm and ridiculously safe, almost embarrassingly so if he’d been awake. Everything felt heavy and  _nice_.

He heard humming though, a reminder of what woke him.

“C’mon Barry, I promised you food in the morning.”

He groaned, wanting to hide from the sunlight and the prospect of waking, but he could smell it then - bacon, pancakes, coffee. His stomach gave a decisive growl and Len laughed at him. 

Inside the space of his small, open-concept bachelor apartment, Len’s laughed carried, and Barry found himself smiling despite the ardour of waking.

“Fine. For food,” he grumbled, earning another laugh.

“You’re not this pathetic every morning, I hope.”

Barry let out another groaned as he gave a full body stretch, various limbs popping as his arms scaled above his head with a yawn. Finally, he sat up. “Only the mornings after I lose my virginity, I guess.”

He heard something clatter loud in the kitchen and looked up, caught Len swearing and scooping up the mug off the ground, thankfully empty of coffee as of yet.

“Len?”

“You,” he put the mug back on the counter and seemed to regain (most of) his composure. “You mean your first time with a man, right?”

Oh. Barry blushed a little, scratching the back of his head, swimming in blankets. “No I mean… did I not make that clear?”

“Barry…  _what_?”

“I told you I’d never done it before when we started dating!”

“I thought you meant anal!”

Barry laughed and flopped back on the bed in a sprawl. “Nah.” He wasn’t too fussed. He knew what he wanted when he went to bed with Len last night, happy to finally be in love enough to have that with someone. 

It was a challenge, for him. He had to be in love before he really wanted it, but most people wanted it long before he’d had enough time to fall in love with them, and things just… didn’t work out that way. There was only so far he could go, before, before always pumping the breaks. But Len didn’t seem to care about waiting, when they first started along this crazy path of frenemies-who-date, and Barry setting the pace had got them there eventually.

Len was by his side before he’d really completed the thought, snuggling around him like a vice. “You little brat,” it carried so much affection. “I can’t believe you.”

Barry laughed again, feeling warm and letting Len smother him in cuddles. “I  _told_  you. Not my fault you didn’t listen right.”

“I can’t believe you gave me your virginity, Barry.”

“It’s not…” he sighed but smiled, rolling over so he was facing Len. “It wasn’t out of some weird misguided purity, or  _saving_  it or whatever. I just… wanted to be in love.”

Len’s breath caught in his throat and Barry bit his lip. Maybe he should’ve said that out loud  _before_  the mind-blowing (silly, fun, teasing) sex, not after.

“You…”

“Yeah.”

Len kissed him then, slow and deep, and Barry melted even further into the morning. “Me too.”

 


	4. coldflash - model/photographer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: I am partial to ColdFlash, model/fashion photographer. I've tried to write one but it never went anywhere.

 

The model wasn’t the problem, except that he was. He had a gorgeous body (they all do, his brain supplied unhelpfully), with all the right planes and angles for a good shot, unscarred with only constellations of moles that they may or may not edit out in post-production. He knew how to pose, to look sultry without looking like a mannequin.

Len would’ve loved it. Except.

Except the little brat kept  _laughing_. During his shoot. Len would tell him to move and he would, but his face would fall into a grin in between poses, and something would catch his attention, and he’d dissolve into a giggle. He was laughing with the lighting staff, with the make up artists doing touch ups, with the goddamn guy who got their coffee. He had this goddamn smile that was–

It wasn’t supposed to be a smiling photoshop and the million candids on Len’s camera with a 1000 watt grin weren’t helping. 

“ _Focus_ ,” he snapped for the umpteenth time and the model–Barry–looked chagrined and dropped the grin, smiled shyly (goddammit how could a  _model_  look so innocent? Len knew what they got up to in their spare time, dammit), and dropped his face into something more neutral.

Len had had about enough. He called for a break. “Everybody  _out_!” he shouted, and all of his assistants fled the room. Barry looked confused, pulling at his clothes. The state of mostly undress, shirt undone and hanging off him, probably wasn't all that warm.

“Not you, wonder boy,” Len shot in his direction before grabbing a coffee off the tray. He scowled at it. Black, how he (in theory) liked it, but he only drank this swill for the boost.

“Umm…”

“You and I chat.”

“About?”

“Why’re you a model?”

“Um– I like the art of it and…”

Len waved his hand to quiet him. “Don’t give me a stock answer. You’re already hired and paid. Why are you a  _model?_ Do you wanna be an actor? Singer? Runway? What’s your angle here?”

Barry shifted from foot to foot. If he thought Len’s behavior was a little  ~~insane~~  off for a photographer, he managed not to say it. Len knew he had a reputation in the industry. He did award winning photos but he was a control freak and not easy to work with, or so they said. Something about a temper and maybe OCD. Something about perfectionism and an attitude. This was his first time working with Barry Allen though, and for a cover shoot no less.

“I… don’t really talk about that.” Barry offered finally, and Len halted for a brief second.

Finally, some humanity.

He dropped the coffee in favor of his camera, keeping the strap around his neck.

“It’s not a hard question, Barry.”

“Well why are you a photographer?”

“Cute. This isn’t a tit-for-tat.”

Barry crossed his arms, “well why not?”

Oh, this one was something. He pursed his lips and glanced to the side. “I take photos because I prefer to watch than interact.”

“Why?”

Len flicked his eyes to Barry’s challenging expression, fingers itching toward his camera. Something told him it wasn’t time yet though. “People are cruel, Barry. But vulnerable. The camera doesn’t lie when it captures them.”

“Why  _fashion_  if that’s how you feel?”

He shrugged, “I like  _money_. And recall, I asked you first, Barry.”

His voice dipped colder than he usually let it get with the models. They were either divas or skittish, more than half the time. But something told him Barry was different, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I like the money too,” he scoffed, then seemed to think better of it and shook his head, taking a step back. “No that’s not even… I like the attention, fine. I said it. I like to be on display. Not for – not just for the obvious reasons. But I spent, god I spent  _so much time,_ half my life, with people trying to tell me not to be who I am, trying to convince me that lies were truth and truth was a lie.” 

He dragged his hand through his hair. Makeup would have to fix that. Len didn’t hesitate though. He snapped a shot – 10, really – of the movement, and if Barry cared, he didn’t show it. Just looked at Len through the lens.

“There’s something permanent about a photograph, y’know? Some… inalienable proof. There was a time in my life I could’a really used that.”

He snapped another shot, knowing it would be good. Important. Even if it never made it on to a cover. Barry Allen, the man behind the smile. Two minutes alone was all he needed to find the person underneath the model. Damn. 

This one really was special.

“Why?” he asked, craving more, like an itch for a smoke or a drink. Wanting to see what was within his new muse.

Barry’s smile was crooked and perfect. Len immortalized it on film with a flash.

“Maybe because I need someone to believe in my version of reality.”

“Take off your robe,” Len asked. Barry complied without complaint. “Sit on the set,” he ordered, simple, and Barry did. He didn’t have that between-pose grin on his face anymore.

“What’s your version of reality, Barry?” he asked, eye up to the viewfinder. Barry looked pensive, and a little sad, and Len knew that after he took this photo, it wasn’t going to be just a fashion shot. It was a cover shot. It was more than a cover shot.

“One where there’s justice,” he replied simply. Len snapped the shot.

He had found his muse.

 


	5. coldflash - smut, temperature play, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Coldflash, smutty temperature play with the cold gun?

Barry moaned, lips blue.

Len smirked down at him, pleased with that reaction. No one else could do this, not like Barry. His healing factor made them able to push it, made him able to indulge in a way he couldn’t with anyone else.

He slipped the cold cell from between Barry’s lips where he was felating it. “What was that now, handsome?”

“ _Please_ ,” Barry whispered.

Len mm’d and traced his lips with the tool. “Please what?”

Barry groaned and traced his fingers against Len’s thighs where Len since Len was straddling his waist. “You’re gonna make me say it?” his voice was so  _raspy_ after taking the cold cell.

“I’m gonna make you blow me before you get it, so you better ask nicely,” Len teased, altogether too pleased and Barry looked caught between rolling his eyes and rolling his hips up to beg.

“Please… put it in me.”

God, that went straight to Len’s cock. it twitched, getting impossibly harder, and suddenly he felt as impatient as Barry. 

“Since you asked nicely.”

He shifted and turned around, seeing Barry catch on to what he was up to halfway through, getting into a 69 style position. He got his cock nice and lined up with Barry’s mouth and grabbed the lube at the same time, slicking up the cylindrical cold cell. Barry spread his legs and lips obligingly and it was Len’s turn to groan. His throat was so  _cool_. Not cold, not after a moment of healing and warming, but cool enough that it hit all of Len’s kink buttons, making him close his eyes in ecstasy for a moment.

He took a second to indulge, facing Barry’s cock knowing his fingers were icy cold when he dragged them up and down the shaft. Barry bucked into his hand, throat constricting around Len’s cock and he groaned, hips stuttering before pulling back. Barry got his hands on Len’s hips to keep them steady and made another aborted movement with his own hips and Len got with the program, sliding the slick cylinder between Barry’s spread legs.

Barry moaned around Len’s cock when he hit the resistance of Barry’s entrance and pushed the cold cell inside him. Just an inch at first, just to tease, and Barry was whining and pushing down on it, wanting more. Len chuckled and sucked the tip - just the tip - of Barry’s cock, since it was so nicely next to his mouth, and he knew Barry was going crazy from the noises he was making, the keen to them, thanks to the way Len was teasing.

The teasing didn’t last long though. He thrusted the cold cell in and out, getting deeper and deeper as he went, watching Barry’s body swallow it, watching him get colder, knowing he was probably feeling like ice on the inside now, reminded of the still-cool feeling on his own cock, warming now. 

He wasn’t going to last much longer with how deep Barry was taking him in his throat, but he knew Barry was on the edge too. Any touch to his cock could set him off and Len revelled in that, pressing in harder and deeper with the cold cell, feeling Barry’s fingers dig hard into the flesh of Len’s hips and ass as he held on tight, just riding it, taking it.

Len grinned but he was getting close and he couldn’t take it any more, giving in to the urge of wrapping his lips around Barry’s cock. Barry pulled his own lips off Len to  _swear_  a blue streak, arching his body up against Len’s. He shuddered hard with a loaned whine, spilling in to Len’s mouth, hips bucking into the heat and back on the cold inside of him.

Len swallowed and pulled back, slide the cold cell out and watched Barry shudder when he did.

“Lenny…” he looked blissed out.

“Mind if I…” Len was facing him, shaking the little bottle of lube. Barry gave him a lopsided grin and spread his legs wider in invitation and Len wasted no time, slicking himself up.

Barry’s healing didn’t let the cold cell hurt him, didn’t let his insides turn to literal ice. Just a cool, smooth sensation and tight flesh to greet him. God, Barry was tight, even after so much teasing prep from earlier, after the cell. Len hissed on entry, fingers digging into Barry’s hips and Barry wrapped his legs hard around Len’s waist, pulling him in harder with a cocky, lopsided and loose grin.

“C’mon,” his voice was still raspy and Len swore, leaned down over him to capture his lips, making Barry taste himself. He thrust in hard and fast, already on his own edge, not taking long before he was groaned against Barry’s throat, letting his lover urge him on in whispered, dirty sweet-nothings.

He came hard inside of him, biting Barry’s shoulder with a groan, eyes rolling back as he shivered, tension overflowing into bliss. He gasped out another time, waves hitting him, until he was finally empty, completely spent, and then let his entire weight settle down on Barry anyway, too boneless to move.

Barry’s fingers traced up and down his spine and he made a few little contented noises in response, the most he could handle. Barry made similar noises in return, happy hums. And finally, “my Captain of Cold.”


	6. atomwave - domestic, fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Atomwave adopting a dog?

“Ray…”

“MICK!” He stopped dead in the door of the kitchen, clearly just coming down the stairs where Mick could hear water and splashing, eyes wide. “You weren’t supposed to be home for another hour!” 

“Why is your hair full of suds?” his eyes narrowed a little, coming forward and dropping his gun and supplies on the island in the kitchen, something that always made Ray’s nose curl up. Now was no different, but Mick was focused, “and why is your shirt wet?”

“Uh…”

Mick was sensing something awful was about to be revealed. He was almost hopeful when he asked, “laundry disaster?”

“ _Uhhhh_ …”

There was, almost predictably, a high, almost squeaky little “ruff!!” and then a flurry of activity as a ball of energy thundered down the staircase and straight onto Ray, flailing and barking and absolutely soaking.

“Ahh! Sparky! You- - were – supposed to stay – in the bath!”

Mick just sighed. He wished he was surprised, even a little. “Sparky?”

The puppy was barking excitedly, long tail wagging, water droplets flung everywhere, and Ray still hadn’t successfully disentangled himself from the energetic creature. Mick just shook his head, walked over, took it by the scruff (ignoring the surprised yap it released) and deposited it carefully on the ground, kneeling so he was close to eye level.

“Sparky,” he lowered his voice to deep and gruff. “I’m the boss around here.”

The puppy whined. Ray whined too. Mick stood up and rolled his eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about having a dog, do you?” 

He stood up and started pulling over a pen and paper to make a list.

“No, I, uh…” Ray looked a little sheepish, the puppy more relaxed now, shaking his tail again at Ray’s feet, sniffing everything. “I was never allowed to have one. I bought some books though!”

Mick snorted, “don’t need ‘em.”

“You… know about dogs?”

“Farm kid.”

“Right! And you’re… not mad? I was just online and he was at a kill shelter and  _tomorrow_ was the last day and I couldn’t let that happen and it was going to be a surprise and he was  _going_  to be clean but I forgot his brush out here and…” the wind ran out of Ray’s sails and Mick tried to pretend it didn’t tug at his (not actually nonexistent) heartstrings, just a little, to see him so nervous. “…just say it’s okay and that you want to keep him.”

Mick was already sliding the list of supplies over to his husband. “I’d never turn away a stray you picked up, Haircut. It’s not how we do things.”

As if on cue, Sparky barked, bold, looking up at Mick from next to Ray. “Yeah, you get to stay. But we’re changing your name, pupp-o. No dog in this house is named after anything that reminds me of the Flash.”

A moment later, he had an arm full of suds-y and soaking Ray, hugging him and stealing a kiss before Mick got his bearings. It was an excellent apology for the surprise dog he decided, recapturing Ray’s lips when he tried to pull back. He had Ray pressed up against the island counter a moment later, a leg between his thighs, thinking kitchen sex was a  _great_  idea for a weekend afternoon.

But then Sparky announced in the worst possible way he wasn’t house-trained yet.

“Ray… is your dog pissing on our fridge door?”

“Uhh….”

Mick reminded himself that he loved his husband, his partner, he really did. “You’re cleaning it up.”

 


	7. coldwave - domestic, knit goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Coldwave, Knit goods?

“Mick… what the shit is this?”

The other man grunted but didn’t answer. Len entered the room carefully, eyes scanning in interest. The multicolored yarn, the balls of it everywhere. Mick with knitting needles in his hand, carefully counting stitches. He had  _glasses_  on.

“I asked you a question.”

“Counting.”

Len sighed and waited. They were  _supposed_  to be planning a job. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this.

After a moment, Mick directed his attention at Len. “It’s knitting.”

“I got that.”

“I picked it up last time I was in the Heights.”

“You….” Len had to process that. It wasn’t unheard of. Lots of inmates found knitting calming and rewarding, especially at maximum security places. Inmates at Alcatraz had been famous for it. “Why didn’t I know you knit?”

“Never needed to work it on the outside.”

“Why now?”

Len felt an itch of worry. Was his partner–his  _partner_ –going so stir crazy that he felt like he was in prison again. Len didn’t think he’d imposed  _that_ many boundaries on him since renewing their partnership (in every sense of the word).

“Relax, Snart,” Mick’s voice grumbled, calm and refocusing on his knitting. “It ain’t like that.”

Len came over and inspected the pattern he was working on. It looked like it was gonna be a beanie.

“So what’s it like then?”

Mick grinned up at him. “You’re ‘Captain Cold’ now, asshole. Gotta keep you warm somehow.”

He reached behind him and something hit Len in the face. He spluttered and stepped back, and when the thing dropped into his arms, he realized it was a beautiful blue and white scarf.

“Now,” Mick said decisively, looking down at the blue and yellow hat-in-the-making, “once I’m done Axel’s, think Lisa’ll want mitts, or should I try sweaters?”

Matching knit goods. Only Mick. Len knew he married this man for a reason.


	8. goldnews (Lisa/Iris) - mob AU, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Something GoldenNews maybe? Dark-fic (maybe even a little badwrong if you wanna go there) with crime boss Lisa. Wether Iris is still a journalist, or a rival criminal, or an opposing vigilante/superhero is up to you. Also maybe one/both are metas? If any of that clicks.

“And be quick, Miss Snart, if you ever wanna see your brother alive again.” Iris snapped the phone off and turned her attention back to her prisoner.

She was hired for the job, a meta-contract of sorts. Get Lisa Snart and her gang of Rogues to comply, whatever the cost. It hadn’t taken too much digging to turn up Lisa’s biggest - maybe  _only_  - weakness. Not that Leonard Snart was weak himself, not with those cold powers, but that wasn’t really an issue for Iris. Not with what  _she_  could do.

Everyone underestimated the effect of powers that  _dampened_ other powers, until they sent her up against other metas. Captain Cold didn’t know what hit him when he went to ice over a room and could barely make a snowflake.

Iris expected Lisa to be in a similar situation soon.

“Feeling cozy?” she asked Snart with a smirk, patting him on the cheek. He was gagged and tied to a chair. A little roughed up but only because he fought so damn hard. Her crew had more bruises than he did. 

After a snarl from Snart, she returned to the main floor of the warehouse to wait.

Thankfully (for him, for her, for her employer), the Golden Glider didn’t take long to arrive. And as demanded, she came alone. Iris’s men checked her on the way in, only found two guns and a knife. She looked put out at handing them over but Iris wasn’t complaining about having a chance to study her.

The way she looked made Iris feel… rapacious. Red lips and long curls and she knew her way around a smokey eye. Those leather pants weren’t Iris’s own style - even now she was in a tight dress, a pair of sensible heels, more sensible than the ones Lisa was wearing - but they did cause Iris’s eyes to stray a little.

“Glad you could make it!” Iris called across the warehouse lined with boxes waiting for shipment. She leaned against the desk sitting in the aisle. Leonard Snart was tucked away safe in an office upstairs, one of her men (Barry) keeping watch on him. “Your brother might make it out of here tonight after all.”

“Oh you offered  _such_  a delicate invitation,  _how_  could I refuse?” Lisa batted her eyelashes in a way that would look ridiculous on any other woman and Iris found herself grinning. So Lisa could play ball, hm?

She stepped away from the desk and Lisa came forward slowly. 

“Where’s my brother?” her voice lost the honey in it.

“You’ll see him once we come to an accord, Miss Snart.”

Lisa hmm’d and her lips turned into a pout, coming to stand just a few feet away. A dangerously close distance, knowing how deadly she was, but Iris was deadlier.

She waited for Lisa to break the silence and she did, all smooth smiles again. “You know,  _Silencer_ , I have heard of you.  _Quite_ the impressive and rather  _deadly_  resume, when you’re not writing articles for the Picture News.”  

Iris was surprised for all of a moment, a little snappish in her response. “Who needs a day job when you’ve got a mob boss’s seal of approval?”

Lisa laughed and Iris was sure she was a shark. That was more than okay though, Iris liked it when a girl knew how to bite.

“You could have any boss in this city, why work for Thawne?”

“Is that an offer, Glider? I’m afraid I’ll be sticking with my employer, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Your employer who wants to see this city and everyone in it burn?” she asked sweetly, getting closer to Iris, almost into her space. Iris fingered the knife sitting on her outer thigh, under her dress, but couldn’t deny the thrill that went up her spine at Lisa daring to get so close.

“The employer who I’m too smart to double cross, Miss Snart. And if you have any sense,” she caught Lisa glancing down at her lips then back to her eyes. Her own voice lowered slightly, a little more husky, “then you’ll meet my demands.”

“Don’t you mean  _his_  demands, Iris?”

Her hand came up to brush Iris’s cheek and she caught it by the wrist. Lisa’s eyes flashed but she smirked.

“My my, hairpin trigger. It seems like you’re a little tense.”

Iris tilted her head with a little smirk of her own. “You really think you can buy me away from Thawne with a little flirtation?” She brought her other hand up to thumb at Lisa’s lower lip, voice pitched warm as honey. “We can talk about this later if you’re still interested, but only  _after_  you’re on Eobard’s payroll.”

“I don’t  _do_  payrolls, Iris, and I certainly don’t do them for  _men_.” She moved and Iris tracked her, starting to walk a circle around her. “But there’s a lot I can offer a woman of your… calibre.”

Iris felt heat pooling south under the frank appraisal, already wondering what it would be like to dig her fingers into all that hair. 

“Sleeping with me to release your brother? I have to say, Lisa, I’m a little tempted, but–” She moved fast, she always did, sharp and sudden with the knife to Lisa’s throat, the woman backed against her desk. She shouldn’t have delighted at the way Lisa gasped, but she did. “You’d have to offer a lot more than that.”

Lisa licked her lips, the first real hint of worry etching her brow but she smothered it, fingers trailing against the skin of Iris’s thigh, right at the hem of her short dress. Oh, she was  _bold_.

“I  _can_  offer you more, Iris. Protection, power, enough money that you can give up that silly ‘day job’ and work for me full-time.”

“I can get all that and more from Thawne.”

Lisa’s fingers trailed up and inward and Iris’s eyes widened but she made no move to stop her. She knew Lisa would feel it in a moment when her fingers found their target– just how wet she already was.

“My my.” Bingo. “I see I’m not the only one enjoying our negotiations.”

Iris grit her teeth, willing herself not to give into temptation but Lisa was everything she loved in a woman - powerful, bold, smart and calculating, and jaw-droppingly beautiful. She bit her lip when those fingers pushed her underwear aside, sliding against her folds.

She lowered the knife slightly, swallowing against the wave of desire.

“Come now, Iris, let me take care of some of your stress for you.” Lisa couldn’t lean forward with the blade in the way but her eyes glinted and Iris  _felt_  like the words were being whispered in her ear.

“Thawne will kill us both.” It sounded so weak to her own ears.

“Then let’s kill him first.” 

Lisa’s free hand took Iris’s wrist and lowered the knife for her, putting it on the desk. She tensed, ready for a fight, but Lisa wrapped that hand around her head and pulled her in for a searing kiss.

Iris finally let go, moaning into it, hands moving to Lisa’s jaw to cup her face, to keep her there, letting herself focus on the way Lisa’s fingers were pumping into her, more targeted than teasing now.

“You’re beautiful,” Lisa whispered, pulling back from the kiss, lips shiny.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Let me take care of you.” 

Iris made a strained sound and threw her head back when Lisa’s thumb drew circles around her clit, and Lisa took it for the ‘yes’ that it was. The woman dropped to her knees a moment later and oh - Iris actually got to find out just what all that hair felt like under her hands. The answer was ‘divine’ - but not as divine as her tongue.

She drew gasp after gasp from Iris, who had to lean against the desk again for support, legs splayed to make room for Lisa, who worked her over and wrung her out until she didn’t think she  _could_  come anymore, legs like jello, fluids running down her thighs as she swore and begged for more in hushed and desperate tones.

When Lisa finally seemed to decide that Iris had released enough ‘tension’, she leaned back on her heels and wipe her face on her wrist. She looked flushed and obscene and Iris knelt down to kiss her, tasting herself.

She might be in love and she’d only just met this woman.

“That was…”

“A signing bonus,” Lisa teased against her lips, kissing gently. “I’m hoping you’ll return the favor sometime, gorgeous. But truly, you needed to relax.”

Iris laughed against her shoulder. “We’re both dead if we do this. Seriously.”

“I really did mean it about killing Thawne.”

“ _How?”_

 _“_ Oh Iris - don’t you know you  _silence_  meta powers? What’d you think a speedster can do without his speed?”

Iris swallowed. It was insane. It was dangerous. It was probably the truth, if she was bold enough to switch sides. 

She stood on those shaky jello legs, Lisa following her up. 

“Now, where’s my brother? We better not tell him I stopped for a bite to eat on my way to save him.”


	9. coldflash - domestic-ish, alt dimension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Um, if you were serious about the prompts things...Len and Barry and changing the past to avert disaster leading to Len and Barry having got together in the altered timeline? It's an old trope for this fandom, and one with some pretty iffy undertones, but if anyone can make it interesting, it's you.

“I want a divorce.”

“Leonard!” Barry practically yelped.

“I mean it, Scarlet. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I– I know that, but it’s – we can’t just – we’re not even married, technically, just - ah, what did Cisco say we had? A ‘commitment’ ceremony?”

“We’re wearing rings.”

“Right. Still, getting divorced seems a little… hasty?” He winced at his own pun.

Leonard waved his hand dismissively, “what, we can’t just get divorced when we aren’t supposed to be married in the first place?”

“Well obviously we  _are_  supposed to be, in this timeline.”

“We aren’t  _from_  this timeline.”

Barry’s head was pounding. He sighed and sat down on the arm of the couch. His couch. Their couch. In the little house they rented  _together_  since Len had something against purchasing, apparently. He dragged his fingers through his hair. What a mess. 

“I know… I know we aren’t from here but come on, the alternative was literally the  _world ending_ , Snart. We were the only two people left in that fight with Savage and Darhk and I didn’t even  _mean_  to drag us back in time but they had literally just triggered the apocalypse.”

Len crossed his arms and frowned down at Barry, refusing to sit or to unwind even a little. “And I’m not debating that, Barry. I’m debating the issue of us coming back from our little jaunt to taking them out 4 years ago before any of this happened, only to find that we  _somehow became married_!”

Barry winced. Leonard was… really tense. So was he but… he’d seen the timeline change in messy ways before. And this… this wasn’t so bad. He didn’t know what else had changed yet, but so far everyone was still talking to him, his friends and family’s lives were all healthy and happy and intact. It was a blow to learn that Iris and Eddie were married, and a jaw-dropper to discover that he and Leonard were… this. Making those connections without alerting anyone to having changed the timeline was a bit of a minefield. He was pretty sure Cisco was on to them, and Joe had given them a weird look when Barry asked why he was supposed to invite ‘Len’ over for dinner on Sunday. 

Despite all that… he had a hard time feeling any sense of despair over this. Nervous, sure. Tense and on edge? A little. But most of what he wanted to do was help Leonard relax. In the past few months they’d become… not friends, but closer to it. Something more than just tenuous allies. He couldn’t help but care about the other man, couldn’t help but want to lean forward and smooth out the lines of tension in his shoulders, the furrow between his brow, want to hold him and kiss the worry awa–

Oh.

“You’re right,” Barry rasped out, a little too abrupt. Leonard gave him a suspicious look.

“I am?”

“I… well if we don’t break up, I…” he glanced at his hands and swallowed. “I don’t want to be selfish, and I just realized my motives are sort of… just, I can see why you wouldn’t want to be stuck in a relationship with me, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to keep you here.”

“Barry?” 

He stayed silent, giving in to the urge to gnaw on the end of his thumb, glancing at Len and then away.

“Am I to take that to mean… You  _want_  to be married to me.”

Barry choked on air for a second and then cleared his throat. “Not  _married_ , I mean that’s a bit much, I just… it’s not like I’ve never thought about it.” It was tough to admit that, but he knew it was true. A few late night fantasies that weren’t necessarily only about sex, but companionship too. Flirting he couldn’t help but engage in, a little uptick in his heartbeat at the smug expressions Leonard would shoot his way. “It wouldn’t work in our old timeline, you as a criminal, me as the Flash. I never really let myself…” he sighed, clasping his hands and glancing at them. It was easier than looking at the other man. 

“You have  _feelings_  for me?” he didn’t say it snidely, it was more incredulous. Barry took a breath and, past the point of denial, nodded.

Leonard walked forward, into Barry’s space, catching his gaze. Barry met it straight on, noting how Len looked almost curious, almost hesitant.

“Now I’m  _not_  saying I’m okay with the surprise nuptials… but if I were to kiss you right now–”

Barry was on his feet in an instant, which evaporated any space between them– “yes! I mean, uh, if that’s something you wanted to do, I wouldn’t–”

Len kissed him. Hands on his jaw, gentle and holding him in place, lips working like he’d been thinking about this too. Barry practically sighed into it, a sense of relief melting into his shoulders, wrapping his arms around Leonard to pull him closer. It was slow and heated and electric thrumming with so much behind it, but with caution keeping it from going too far. Barry slid his tongue into Len’s mouth to make it deeper, revelling in how Len’s hand slid into his hair, how the planes of their body seemed to fit.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavy, just a few inches of space between them.

“Apparently, I married a good kisser.”

Barry let out a shocked laugh, stepping a little farther back to pull a hand through his hair, trying to get his heart to calm back down. “Can we make a deal?”

“Hm?”

“We try this thing out for a little while? And take it… slow? And maybe come clean to the others about how we changed things to save the world, so they don’t keep wondering why we’re acting so weird?”

Leonard let out a little sigh, the only sign that he was still holding tension. “Deal.”

“Awesome.”


	10. flashwave and coldflash - smut, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: len walking in on mick & barry getting it on. now i really want to know how he'd react.

Mick knows. First, knows Len’s feelings about the Scarlet Speedster, and more importantly, knows that Len Snart has the  _worst_  game and zero luck in love. But the third thing Mick knows, because it’s as bright neon as the brat’s suit, is that the Flash is holding a candle for his friend. The hero isn’t about to do anything about it (why would he?), plus Len isn’t very good at making his feelings known so the kid probably has no idea. 

He wouldn’t care, but it’s getting in the way of heists, and making Snart all sorts of miserable. And he wouldn’t do anything about it even then but… he has to admit, he’s at least a little curious.

Tackling it directly is obviously not gonna work. Mick would love to light it up and leave it to burn but it’s Captain Cold he’s talking about. The man’s too dense to deal with emotions or passion head-on. And if this ends up having disastrous consequences, he’ll end up heartbroken and pissy, and that’ll make the next year that much worse. He wants to successfully steal something sometime this century without Lenny biting his head off about ‘the plan’.

So in typical fashion, after their third clash in six months with the Flash goes awry, Mick takes matters into his own hands. He likes to improvise, move quickly, and has never had much issue seducing anyone so long as they’re a bit interested. He sets up an arson, small time personal gig, and waits for the Flash to show up to the fireworks. The brat obviously doesn’t expect him to be waiting, or to be teasing once he arrives, but Mick can lay it on.

He’s insinuating and charming and gruff all at once, just the way an adrenaline-junkie like this kid probably likes it, and before long he’s got the lean man crowded against an alley wall, tongue down his throat and he’s holding on to Mick for dear life. His waist fits nice into Mick’s hands and for all that muscle, he’s not hard to lift, and not shy about wrapping his legs around Mick, gasping something about ‘bad ideas’ that Mick is only too happy about. He’s always liked being a bad idea – makes for the most fun in bed when a partner treats you like a guilty pleasure. And the Flash? Definitely doesn’t take much convincing to fall into bed.

Turns out a super-powered libido is a helluva drug.

The third or fourth time Mick meets with Barry – beautiful Barry, now that he’s seen that pretty face - he’s at a safehouse that belongs to Len, because he knows what he’s about. Mick’s not in this for much except to get it out of his own system on the way to getting Snart’s panties untwisted from their current bunch. A finder’s fee, that’s what this has been.

Barry doesn’t know any better, of course. Doesn’t know like Mick does that Len will be stopping by. And when Len does, right when Mick is pounding Barry’s ass into the mattress in the small, run-down, bachelor style apartment. Barry is too blissed out and distracted to even notice Len’s there until the man shouts. But Mick knows and just keeps going.

Not that it takes long for the tableau to erupt. Because Len gets three steps in before he shouts in surprise and Barry jolts up like a deer in the headlights, spluttering in the vein of “shit–what–fuck–ah–” and he’s about to speed off, Mick can already feel him tensing for it, but that kinda defeats the purpose (and fuck it, he wants to at least _finish_ ) so true to his own half-baked plan, he holds tight to the speedster, lays him back against the mattress, and keeps moving in him while Len comes into the room glaring, frosty, instead of turning away and walking out. 

 

Because he knows Len, and knows Len is a million times better at things when he sees them like a challenge or an obstacle, something to crack – he sorts things out when people push him. Mick’s got him right where he wants him – wants them both, really. So he keeps thrusting.

-

Barry was about to move. He was about to get the hell out of dodge because _Captain Cold just walked in_ and oh fuck he was not ready for that to happen or to confront the feelings he’s been avoiding but – fuck, Mick just thrust in hard and deep and wow he’s gasping and okay, okay, shit, what –

And Mick does it again, holding on to Barry by the hips and keeping him there, and he swallows because it’s amazing but how many conflicted feelings can he have about the fact that they have a visitor? Or the fact that Mick’s not even looking at him, his eyes are on Snart and it looks like a challenge. Barry didn’t even know there was a power struggle there but - “what’re you gonna do about it, buddy?”

He cleaves slowly into Barry when he says it and he can’t help but moan.

And Barry is confused and horny now, and half-sure Snart is going to kill him and he wants to be embarrassed – _is_ embarrassed – but the way Mick’s moving inside him? That feels too goddamn good right now for him to care all that much. And if he’s being really honest with himself, Len’s frank appraisal of him is kind of turning him on, even if he has no idea where this is going. 

“What are you up to, Mick?” Len finally asks, standing not two feet away, and Barry’s breath is hitching as he clutches the sheets. Mick is grunting over him. Barry doesn’t even know where to look anymore.

“Frosty bastard, getting you to– _nn_ –hurry your ass up. Kid–ah–moves too fast for your glacial ass.” Mick’s thrusting faster now and Barry reaches for his own cock because he needs to cum and if they’re putting on a _show_ \- but Mick catches his wrist and shifts to press it down by Barry’s head, changing the angle and Barry gasps. Len’s eyes track it all, because Barry can’t look away from his face now, eyes lidded.

“This your way of saying you beat me to the punch, ‘cause if so–”

“Fucking– _hng–_ no you dumbass. Just warmin’ him up for you.”

Len’s eyes go wide and Barry’s do too, clenching around Mick because  _oh_. He’s surprised by how much that thought turns him on, and suddenly Mick is going  _much_  faster and for a minute all Barry can do is vibrate and shake and moan before Mick is coming. When he’s done, Barry is still shaking but he swallows back whatever he was going to say because Mick is getting off the bed and clasping Len on the shoulder.

“Just take ‘im out to dinner after, eh? Kid that’s sweet on you  _and_  can vibrate like that deserves a real date.”

-

Len is nodding, kind of bemused and incredibly hard, and Barry is looking up at him with bedroom eyes and it’s like every dream come true all the sudden. Mick hauls on clothes even as Len is taking his own off, Barry leaning up to help, sliding his hands up Len’s torso and kissing his stomach, murmuring about how he can’t wait for this, how much he wants Len inside him. Len is pretty sure it’s his ‘blissed out and needing to cum’ state that has him whispering things he ordinarily would  _never_ , but he’s not complaining because Barry apparently has a  _wicked_  tongue. On his way out the door, while Len and Barry are making out on the bed and things are getting hotter and heavier by the second, Mick chuckles and calls over his shoulder, “and if you ever want a threesome, you know where to find me.”


	11. coldwestallen - established, humour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: if you're still interested, coldwestallen - another time Len might say, "Iris! Love the ice."

“Iris! Love the ice!”

She starts, glancing at her finger in confusion for a half second then crosses her arms in a glare. “Not funny, Cold!”

He’s nodding down at her boots which are conveniently iced to the pavement, cold reaching halfway up her legs thanks to him and that gun of his, strapped to his hip. She scowls at it as he approaches.

“It’s a little funny.”

“I was chasing a story!”

“You were chasing  _danger_ ,” he moves into her space and tucks her hair behind her ear, voice all warm and honey, a total contrast to the frost making her shiver.

“I’m getting cold, Cold.”

“Brrr, you  _are_  mad.”

She only calls him Cold when he’s working or when she’s displeased. Right now it’s both and she huffs at him. “Barry’s gonna have your head for icing me.”

“You’re in jeans, I made sure it wouldn’t hit your skin.”

“Uh huh, and am I gonna be out of here before I get frostbite, Lenny?”

He hesitates for the first time and glances more carefully at the ice encasing her legs. She takes the opportunity to continue her lecture,

“And you  _know_ , you don’t get to decide if I want to trail after Mardon and Bivolo in my spare time or not.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her, even as he takes out his phone and starts typing into it. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But you were tailing after me too, Iris, and Captain Cold gets to decide if he wants reporters following him.”

“You sure doubled-back fast enough,” she finally gives him an opening to abate her anger. Her arms are still crossed but it’s mostly because she’s chilly now.

“Mhmm,” he agrees and leans forward to kiss her cheek. “Gotta go, love. Barry will be here in a minute to get you out.”

“Go - hey, Lenny - you!” 

He’s already ducking into the nearest alleyway and she throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

This is what she gets for falling in love with not just a superhero, but a supervillain also.


	12. coldflash  - domestic, fluff, engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Fluffy prompt, Barry introducing Len to Henry?

Henry wondered what the big news was. He was hoping -  _hoping_  - it wasn’t some new catastrophe in Barry’s life. It was always hard to tell, with him. But he didn’t tend to come up to the cabin too often, and when he’d called earlier in the week to say he was coming up on Saturday, Barry had sounded nervous, like it was urgent.

That tended to mean a catastrophe. Henry sighed, putting on a kettle for tea. If it was  _really_  a catastrophe, some new meta-terror, he’d hope that Barry would have sped out here sooner, so maybe that wasn’t it. And he’d said he was  _driving_  out, which was entirely different than normal.

So it was something. Henry just… couldn’t put his finger on what.

When the car (sleek, black, understated, and definitely not something Barry borrowed from Joe or something he would rent) rolled up the hill to the cabin, his curiosity was piqued. 

When a completely different man than Barry stepped out of the driver seat, his curiosity was through the roof, along with a small dose of alarm.

Wasn’t that–

It was. 

How?  _Why_?

Henry schooled his expression into something a little more neutral as Barry (coming out from the passenger side) glanced nervously at Leonard Snart then back at Henry.

“Hey Dad.”

“Hiya, slugger.” Might as well set his son at ease a little, if he could. He looked back at the other man as if he wasn’t the most bizarre and improbable person to show up at Henry’s cabin. “Leonard Snart.”

The man inclined his head with a small smile, not quite fully genuine but not with any malice he could detect. “Doctor.”

“Henry, please.”

If Snart was surprised at that, he didn’t show it. “Henry then.” 

Barry shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Can we, uh, head inside?”

Henry led the way, offering both of them tea (Barry declined, Snart accepted, and Henry’s curiosity was morphing deeper into confusion with each passing minute).

“So you’re probably wondering,” Barry glanced at the man sitting to his side, “why I brought Len out here.”

“’Len’ is it? I might be curious.” He handed ‘Len’ the mug of tea and sat down across from the two.

He wasn’t expected Barry to take the other man’s hand and put their clasped fingers in plain view on the table. He really wasn’t expecting the double-take he had to do at seeing  _matching rings_  on their fingers.

His eyes shot up to Barry’s and he had to be reading this wrong but Barry was already talking–

“I know I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry - it didn’t happen till now but there’s been a lot going on – you know how it is – and it wasn’t the type of thing I wanted to talk about over the phone and it sort of got easy to put off because really, how was I supposed to explain that I was dating a supervillain– yes I know Len, you’re not a ‘supervillain’ you’re just a regular criminal mastermind – so really I dragged my heels a bit but–”

“You’re  _engaged_?”

Barry stopped talking, swallowed, and nodded. Henry fell back in his seat and surveyed the two men, eyebrows in his hairline. Barry looked like a nervous wreck, fingers probably crushing Leonard’s. And Leonard… looked apprehensive. Calculating. Waiting for Henry to say something.

Waiting for this to blow up, no doubt.

Henry remembered him from prison. Cold, calculating. Not cruel but not merciful. Exacting. He had friends in circles Henry did his best to steer clear of (though that was half the prison, really) and they only ever interacted when Snart needed someone (normally Rory) patched up on the sly.

After that, he only ever heard of Snart on news broadcasts trying to murder his son.

Obviously, something had changed.

“Congratulations.” Best to say that first, at least. Barry’s exhale seemed to let his whole body sag. Snart looked intrigued.

“You’re not mad?” Barry asked.

“You’re damn right I’m mad. How long have you been dating this man if you’re already engaged and this is the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Uh…”

“Eight months, fourteen days, and give or take sixteen hours since he felt the need to make it ‘official’.”

Henry did another double take. He was doing a lot of those today. Barry was just staring. “You remembered the  _hours_?”

“Figured that question might come up.” Snart shrugged but he was almost smirking. Barry was smiling too, like it was maybe related to some private in-joke of theirs. Henry was bemused.

“When’s the wedding? Will there be a wedding?”

“We haven’t decided on a date yet. The engagement is new as of a week ago.”

“Who proposed?”

“Barry did. Hopeless romantic.”

“That sounds like him.”

“There were roses.”

“You wouldn’t strike me as a roses type of guy.”

“He gets ahead of himself. There was also ice-skating and an ice sculpture festival. Gotta give him credit where’s it due.”

“He plan out the entire evening?”

“Weekend.”

Henry laughed, feeling himself relax a little. Snart looked amused too. Barry, a little more put-out.

“I’m sitting right here.”

“Yeah but you didn’t tell me you were dating for eight months so I’ll be asking questions of the guy who’s actually talking to me.” Henry shot back without any real heat to it. He was a little hurt, but he was also old enough to understand that it wasn’t about him at all. Barry had his hang ups and that was allowed. Dating his arch-nemesis and not wanting his father to worry? Perfectly typical of him, really. Being forthright with people was never his forte anyway.

“So I take it then that I don’t have to endure another ‘if you hurt him I’ll kill you’ speech?”

Henry laughed. “Oh I’m sure there would be quite the line ahead of me, full of people far more skilled with weapons. I’ll spare you that. I can see how much you love him, anyway.”

And well, the look of surprise and gratitude on both their faces at that was something priceless to him, really. 

“Now, put away that tea. This calls for something much stronger to celebrate.”

 


	13. goldenboo (Lisa/Shawna) - flirting, drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: can you write a fluffy Lisa Snart and Shawna Baez fic. I just know that there has to be cuddles, nose kisses, and Lisa telling Hartley at least once to 'fight her'.

“Fight me, Ratha-butt.”

Shawna fell over in a fit of giggles and Hartley looked indignant, drawing himself up into a full sitting position, “I will have you know that I - _hic_ \- I am a - _hic_ \- not a  _butt_ , Lisa, and I have – _hic_ – the – _hic_ – oh  _come on_!”

“Got the hiccups, curly fry?”

Mick grumbled over his beer, “what kinda insult is curly fry?”

Shawna leaned into close to Lisa’s cheek, her arm still slung over the other woman’s shoulder. “It’s ‘cause he’s always bent outta shape, right Lisey?”

Lisa sipped her own drink and murmured, “Mm-hmm, that’s right dear.” All of them three sheets to the wind except maybe Mick. Mark was had passed out on the table twenty minutes ago and Shawna and Lisa got bored enough to start flirting all over one-another. 

Hartley leaned forward with an emphatic fist on the table, shaking their drinks even as he hiccuped again. “All I’m saying is – _hic_ – that you two are cav – cav –  _hic_  – cavity-inducing.”

Lisa turned just her head to face her girlfriend, causing their noses to boop with the close proximity of Shawna. The other woman didn’t move away, just grinned. “Shawna darling, are we being too sweet?”

“You mean too cute?” Shawna replied, voice positively syrupy to rile the rest of them up, “too cuddly?”

“I think he means that we’re too–”

A drawling voice cut through their fun, “Too  _everything.”_

 _“_ Boo – spoilsport!” Lisa pulled back and glared at her brother, back from the bar with a fresh round.

“Save the PDA for sometime when I’m not here 'n don’t have to watch you two canoodling.”

“Y’all’re just jealous because you’re single,” Shawna titled her beer at Lenny and Hartley before taking a swig. Lisa couldn’t help her own smug grin.

Her brother’s eyes took a devious tint though, and Lisa’s smile dropped into a suspicious glare. “Lenny…”

Her brother arched an eyebrow and glanced to Hartley sitting next to him. “Hey Hiccups, what’s say we make these ladies eat their words?”

“ _You wouldn’t_ –” Lisa gasped. She knew her brother wasn’t fussed about gender, but he  _did_  have a no-dating-the-crew policy, and it was very strict. Poor Hartley’s eyes were round (and greedy) as saucers at this invitation though, hiccuping through his reply right over Lisa’s protest.

Shawna was leaning forward with a distinct challenging tilt to her chin and Lisa knew she was about to egg them on. If her brother started making out at the table, if he leaned over the passed out body of Mark to get to Hartley in order to do it –

Mick stood up, chair scrapping across the table, startling them all. “C’mon Snart, gettin’ in a pissing contest with your own damn sister ‘n I know you’ve had enough.” He stepped between them and hoisted Mark like he was no heavier than a sack of potatoes, the other man snorting in his sleep but allowing the jostling as he was tossed over Mick’s shoulder. 

Lenny sighed and stood too, but Lisa didn’t miss that he passed what could  _only_ be the address to the safehouse he was staying at tonight over to Hartley. Now  _that_  was interesting.

If Mick noticed, he didn’t care enough to say anything, attention focused on her. “And Lisa?”

She sat up a little straighter, suddenly wary of a lecture and far too inebriated to want to process one. “Yes, Mick?”

But he just winked at her, “you treat that woman right.”

And just like that, Shawna was giggling again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always kind of felt like I didn't do the prompter justice with this one, because it's more drunken shenanigans than it is fluff? I'm just not sure I know how to write Rogues being fluffy. Whenever I picture more than two of them in one place, shenanigans ensue...


	14. coldwave - domestic, baking, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Coldwave with Len baking cupcakes?

“Smells good in here.”

Len tensed for a moment then relaxed again, his partner having slipped into their apartment quietly. He glanced at Mick leaning in the door of the kitchen.

“That was the cookies. I’m on cupcakes now.”

“ _Mmm_ , my favorite.”

Len let himself smile privately while his back was to Mick, stirring. “I know.”

He felt Mick’s warmth at his back a moment later, “looks tasty.”

“You don’t get to eat the batter.”

Like a proper criminal, Mick immediately put his finger in the bowl. 

“ _Mick_.”

He sucked on it and pulled his finger out of his mouth with a ‘pop’. “Red velvet, nice.”

Len sighed and turned to glare at him. “I’m trying to bake here.”

“N I’m tryin’a live a little.” He dodged Len trying to swat him away and put his finger back in the bowl but this time, mischief written all over his face, he held it up for Len to taste-test.

He arched an eyebrow. “Really, Mick?”

“I promise, it’s tasty.”

“I promise, we’re not having sex till I’m done baking, and there’s two trays of these to go in.”

“So what’s the harm in tasting it then?”

Len glared but leaned forward anyway and sucked the batter off Mick’s finger, maintaining eye contact and not missing the way his lover’s pupils dilated.

“Satisfied?”

“Not even a little.”

“Shoo. You’ve had your fun. These need to go in the oven.”

Mick finally stepped back and Len could breathe again, clothes feeling a little too hot and tight. He dropped the batter into the cupcake trays and slid them into the oven. When he turned around, Mick had reappeared in the room, and this time, it was with the frankly  _ridiculous_  blue and frilly apron he’d once bought Len as a joke.

“Where did you even  _find_  that?” He really thought he’d told Mick to burn it.

“Been keeping it for a day like today?”

“That so? Wanna put me in it and take a photo for blackmail or something? Holding a tray of cookies?” Len’s voice dipped to scathing, but Mick’s grin just widened.

“No, doll, wanna put you in it and get you out of everything else.”

Oh. Well. Oh. “I see.” 

“How about it?”

“The cupcakes will burn.”

“Mm, never said we have to leave the kitchen. Promise I’ll let you up long enough to take ‘em out of the oven.”

And well… it was hard to argue with that.


	15. coldflash - 30's mobster AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Coldflash, 1930s Mobsters.

“Baby doll?”

Barry hummed and pressed his thumbs in deeper to the knots in Lenny’s back, just to either side of his neck. His lover hissed and shifted up so Barry could reach better, making water splash as he did. He was sitting in a deep bathtub while Barry sat behind it on a stool, washing his back, rubbing his shoulders. 

“Yeah Lenny?”

“After we fence this sourdough… me ‘n Mickey are thinking of splitting town.”

Barry’s hands stilled, then started again. “The G-men really came down hard this last job, huh?”

“Don’t plan to be gone forever, but Central ain’t the city it used to be.”

Barry leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck, uncaring of how much water had spilled onto his clothes. He moved his arms around Lenny to hug, then down. “Why you telling me this, hm? You inviting me to come with you, or you trying to tell me goodbye?”

Lenny’s hand caught his under the water, somewhere around his navel. “Would you come with me, if I asked?”

“You, handsome? You I’d follow anywhere.”

“Me ‘n my dough?”

Barry pulled back and turned to look him in the eye. “Don’t be like that. I wouldn’t care if you were scrub, Lenny. Might rather it, leave your typewriter behind. Wouldn’t have to worry about you so much.” His free hand, the one not holding onto Lenny’s, skimmed over an old scar, a bullet wound.  

Lenny looked at him, long and careful. “You’d be bored without the lifestyle, kitten.”

He smiled, relaxing a little, “so long as I can sing in your lounges, Lenny, you can take me anywhere, alright?”

Lenny shifted, water sliding over the edge of the tub and Barry was soaked but who cared, Lenny was kissing him. “Alright, B. Anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Slang from this link.](http://www.paper-dragon.com/1939/slang.html)


	16. scholsen - flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: "my friend thinks you're cute" "what friend?" "me. i'm the friend." for scholsen pls. no pressure tho

The problem, at first, was that James was with Lucy. And then when he wasn’t with Lucy, he was really hoping that things might work out with Kara. And then when that started to go by the wayside, he was so focused on other things that–

No, the problem, at first, was that James didn’t  _know_  Winn, and wasn’t sure how he felt about Kara casually sharing her secret with this guy (not that James had much room to talk, not knowing Kara half so well yet as Winn did). And then the problem after that was that Winn was so obvious in his jealousy that James never even  _considered_  that Winn could be into, well, him. Instead of Kara, or Siobhan, or any of the other gorgeous women he didn’t seem to realize he was constantly surrounded by until he was neck-deep in love with them.

So the problem, then, was that James had never really  _thought_  about Winn that way.

Until he did.

Until  _he_  was the one who had fallen neck-deep (more like head over heels, his brain poked him to say) in love, and yet there was no way Winn could ever feel the same. Not that Winn was aggressively straight, just that he was, well,  _Winn._

And then, as time went, Winn became pretty much his closest friend, his ally, the one who was beside him and helping him and making him feel like really, truly, he could do this. Be Guardian, be a hero. Be the person he always knew he was but hadn’t really had the chance to be.

Winn helped make that possible. It was no wonder that James fell so damn hard for him, really.

But those kind of stakes… It hadn’t worked with Kara, and James tried to tell himself that it hadn’t affected his confidence, but after Lucy, then that rejection… he wasn’t sure he was ready to lay his heart on the line again either. Not when Winn already meant the world to him.

So he’d just watch from afar and smile, and flirt a little when it felt safe, and told himself that when the opportunity came up, maybe he’d take it, if it was meant to be. Or maybe Winn would fall for someone else and James would pick up his heart and move on.

But Winn… had never had as much luck as James had with ladies. Confidence was essential, and when it came to romance, Winn was… lacking. His charm and grace and humor seemed to evaporate.

Which was why, after another date gone sour, he called up James for a drink to be “bitter and single together”. James had laughed and pushed aside the aching in his heart to go and comfort his friend.

“I just don’t get it man, how do you do it?”

“Do what?” James asked, sipping his beer on Winn’s couch, trying not to make it too obvious that he couldn’t take his eyes off Winn.

“Talk to girls, man.”

“Just be yourself. You don’t need to impress them, they should want to impress  _you_.”

Winn scowled and looked down at his beer. “Yeah maybe when you’re as handsome as you, that’s how the world works.”

“You’re handsome, Winn.”

He made a  _psshh_  kind of sound, waving it away. 

“I mean it.” James actually turned to face him, his beer discarded on the coffee table.

“Yeah according to who?”

“My friend thinks you’re cute,” James said, then kicked himself because of course Winn would ask: 

“What friend?” And he was genuinely curious, and James was two beers in, which wasn’t enough to really blame it on the beer but he’d take whatever excuse he could for being brave enough to finally say:

“Me. I’m the friend.”

His heart thudded heavy and fast in his chest and he tried to swallow around his nerves. As if admitting you had feelings was somehow easier if you were more confident - it wasn’t, he was pretty sure it was terrifying no matter who you were.

Except Winn didn’t seem to get it. At all. He blinked and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t count, man. C’mon. I’m talking about people who would  _actually_  date me.”

And hey - that stung. Hell yeah he should count because - “I  _would_  date you.”

Well. Now that was out there. No take backs. Not that James really wanted to. He should’ve said it months ago and he knew it.

And Winn, he screwed up his face all cute and confused, then started to laugh like he was gonna play it off as a joke, already on “nah, man, don’t - “

“I’m not joking, Winn.” He tried to smile but his heart was up in his throat and it was suddenly very important that Winn know he was serious. “I would date you. In a heartbeat.”

Winn blinked, looked slack with surprise then sat up straight. “Oh. You -  _oh_.”

He set aside his drink, turning to face James more seriously and he readied himself for the awkward ‘thanks but no thanks’.

“But you’re  _James Olsen._ You’re the photographer who looks like he should be the cover model. You’re the charming guy that can make anyone laugh and you’re  _the hero_.”

James did a double take. “Uh – ” he laughed a little, nervous, “okay but I want to date you. That doesn’t – none of those things have anything to do with me wanting to date you.”

“You really – so if I said ‘please kiss me’ right now, you would?”

James’s eyes widened a little but he leaned forward. “Winn?”

“Please for the love of god kiss me.”

And -  _finally_  - he did. (And then some). 

They didn’t leave the couch for a long while after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I would die for this ship)


	17. flashvibe - smut, voyeurism, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Cisco accidentally vibes person of your choice having some private happy pants time :D
> 
> (Warning for non-consensual voyeurism which isn't dealt with at all here)

Part of having powers meant practicing. Harry was always on him about it and he was  _working_  on it, really. Not even so he could help with cases so much as to get control over the daymares, or start learning to have more positive feelings and visions and less ‘murder end of the world and/or multiverse’ ones.

Harry was back on Earth 2 now though and Cisco had no one really pushing him most days, their lives back to a less crazy keel, but he was still practicing. Something he liked to do, not that he’d admit it to anyone, was check up on Earth 2 and make sure Harry and Jesse were okay. It was the little spark of good that came out of the hell that was Zoom, after all. 

And it was harder to focus on Earth 2 anyway. So he started there, hanging out by himself in his apartment, lounging on the couch. Grabbed up a keychain he’d swiped from E2 STAR Labs and held it tight and after a minute, he felt the shift, opened his eyes and he was in a vision. All the colors took that muted blueish tone he knew to recognize and he was in a workshop. The basement workshop. He had to smile. Harry was a softy, working near the breach, keeping an eye on it, swearing with a wrench. Same old same old. 

Cisco refocused and the world slid by, zooming out then in. He caught sight of Jesse with some friends, laughing at a cafe. He had to grin. All was well on Earth 2.

He came out the vision and dumped the keychain on the coffee table. That was the warm up. Now it was time for the difficult stuff. Having a vision without a talisman to guide him. He wasn’t that great at it yet, and it only worked for a few people, but it was coming to him a bit better each time he tried.

He closed his eyes, breathed out, and pushed it. A little hard, too hard maybe, the vision snapped into focus. Caitlin, humming to herself in the lab. First he thought she was analyzing data but a glimpse at the screen showed him she was shopping for clothes online. He grinned over her shoulder and let the vision dissolve with a laugh.

He was feeling a little exhilarated. Normally the lab was a lot harder to manifest. Maybe he should try Barry next. If he was in the suit (aka Cisco’s baby), Cisco should be able to vibe him, right? He had a strong connection to that tripolymer, after all.

He closed his eyes with a grin, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and didn’t try quite so hard to force it this time. He could feel the vibrational energy, the world going mute, the blue haze, so hard to describe, but he wasn’t getting a clear vision yet. He thought he heard Barry’s voice and tuned his energy toward it, a shape starting to solidify.

“Cisco… Cis..co..” That was definitely Barry’s voice, and Cisco’s heart started to race. He looked around - was Barry in the energy with him, could he see Cisco in the vibe? 

“ _Fuck_ …” 

Cisco pushed the image hard and sharp, suddenly worried that Barry was in danger, was calling for Cisco to vibe him, to find him but–

OH.

Oh  _hell_.

The image had sharpened fast and hard. Hard. Like Barry was. Wow. And naked. Incredibly… incredibly naked.

Cisco swallowed, throat suddenly tight. He was standing next to Barry’s bed and his friend was laying down, knees up a bit, hand around his cock, pumping it.

Jesus, that was - something. He’d seen Barry naked before (kind of hard not to as their medical patient) but that wasn’t sexy and this - this was sexy. His face was flushed and his eyes were closed, caught up in some fantasy, biting his lip and - 

Cisco should… go. Yeah. Any second now. This was definitely an invasion of privacy.

But then Barry made a  _sound_ , a pathetic little whimper and Cisco’s eyes snapped back down to his hands because what could possibly draw that kind of sound out of Barry and… 

He was pretty sure he’d never been this turned on in his life because he realized that Barry wasn’t just fisting his cock, he was definitely fingering himself.

Cisco let out a sound almost like the one Barry just had at the sight of his hand moving rhythmically and he moved on autopilot (yeah, autopilot, keep telling yourself that, his brain supplied unhelpfully) to get a better view of between his legs.

Oh god Cisco was going to hell but he was so beyond caring because Barry didn’t have fingers inside himself - he had a  _dildo_  inside himself.

Cisco’s eyes might’ve bugged out of his head. The desperate, panting noises that Barry was making made a lot more sense now, really, and Cisco could tell from his grip on himself that he was trying  _not_  to cum, not chasing a finish line.

Would it be so bad if Cisco started touching himself? Yes. Terrible. Just enjoy the show, Cisco. Or no wait, he smacked himself. He needed to give Barry his privacy.

“ _Cis…co_ …”

Fuck. His heart almost stopped and he clutched his chest, ready to apologize, to make an excuse, to light himself on fire and never look at Barry after being caught as a voyeur inside the man’s bedroom. Because Barry’s eyes were open and Cisco was  _right. there_.

Except Barry didn’t say anything else, just staring… right through Cisco. Who started to breathe again. Because he was vibing, and Barry couldn’t actually see him, and definitely hadn’t stopped his hands.

Then why…

Cisco’s whole body flushed, a warm and heady feeling taking over. Oh, it  _couldn’t_  be.

“ _Fuck,”_ Barry whispered again, to himself. Entirely to himself. Just like he’d whispered Cisco’s name to himself.

Cisco swallowed hard. It didn’t have to mean anything. Everyone had fantasies. So what if Barry fantasized about… getting fucked… by Cisco.

“ _Yes_ ,” Barry whispered, and Cisco wanted, god he wanted to be the one  _actually_  drawing those sounds from Barry,  _actually_  the one rolling into him - god he’d be so tight, so hot, Cisco knew, could see, fuck - actually able to hold him down against the mattress and kiss his mouth and pull his hair and –

Barry started to vibrate. “ _Cisco_!”

Cisco was going to explode. Barry started to vibrate his hands and the dildo inside him and to thrust up fast and sharp into his own palm and he gasped, eyes wide and unseeing, arched off the bed and –

Cisco shoved his own fist in his mouth to stop from shouting out watching Barry cum, ribbons of it shooting out, hitting all over his abs. Cisco shuddered, reaching down into his own pants, aching hard and unable to wait any longer, the messy vision of Barry calling his name was just way too much for any halfway sane human being to handle, honestly.

The vision dissolved as his vision started to white out, embarrassingly quick really, closing his eyes as he arched off his own couch and came inside his pants.

He was breathing heavy for a minute after, feeling like he’d been running a mile a minute.

Oh, he was going to hell. But it was totally worth it.

Except fuck. Now he was going to have to figure out how to ask Barry out on a date, preferably without dropping the ‘so I vibed you fantasizing about me and you look hella hot when you cum and I wanna be there in person next time’ bomb. Not that he wouldn’t tell Barry. Just that that was a date number three type confession, y’know?

Cisco sighed and went to clean himself up, thinking about the way Barry begged for him when he came, how desperate he sounded, daydreaming about Cisco.

On second thought… maybe he would lead with the confession.

 


	18. gen - Legion of Doom gets Barry, dark-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Legion of Doom Len gets his hands on the Flash. Barry tries to appeal to a man that doesn't know him to remember a relationship that hasn't happened yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: it's not graphic but this technically starts off with torture

“I swear to god, Leonard, this  _isn’t you_ – ” Barry gasped after the third blow to his stomach. The cuffs Eobard put on him when they caught him by surprise – with cold gun blasts to his back and feet before cuffing and carrying him onto their ship – were making it harder than he would like to fight back.

That and the hunger. His blood sugar was tanking and he was feeling a little light-headed.

“As far as I understand,  _Flash,_ the ‘me’ you’re referring to gets himself blown up, so don’t expect me to be jumping up eager to meet that fate, hm?”

He leaned down as he said it, perfectly cold and cruel, even as Barry levied himself up onto his elbows, wrists still tightly bound, cancelling his speed. He really hated these cuffs.

“Now,“ Leonard stood again, “why don’t you tell us where your piece of this so-called Spear of Destiny is so we can drop you back in 2017 ‘n we’ll be on our way.”

Barry honestly… had no clue what he was talking about. Not that  _this_  was the way to get it out of him if he did. A beating? It was like he didn’t know Barry at all.

Which, he didn’t. Right. Barry’s chest clenched, trying to force his vision to focus and not tunnel. “I don’t  _know_  – and I wouldn’t tell you if I did!”

“Red’s telling the truth, Snart,” Rory walked in. Barry wanted to hiss at him. Leonard was from the past. Rory? He remembered everything, he just betrayed his team anyway. 

“Come again?” Snart rolled his eyes over to Rory, all drawl and flowing energy as he held back from the kick he’d had aimed for Barry’s stomach.

“Trust Darhk to get the year wrong. Turns out Red won’t get the Spear shard from Rip until 2034. This kid hasn’t got it yet.”

“Mick,” Barry made it to his knees, “why’re you doing this?”

Mick looked away. Snart glared down at Barry. “If you know what’s good for you, Flash, you’d stop yourself from addressing my partner.”

Barry had almost forgotten just how much of an asshole Snart was before their deal.

“You know this isn’t him, Mick. He’s not the same as the–”

Yeah, he really should’ve expected the punch to his face given how volatile Snart was in this time, but he didn’t expect the man to roll on top of him, fist raised to do even more damage.

“That’s enough!” Mick shouted, rushing forward to stop Snart from doing any more damage to Barry’s face. He’d heal as soon as the cuffs were off but he wasn’t complaining about not having his nose broken.

“ _Mick_.” Snart looked incensed.

“Please, Leonard,” Barry whispered, “we were  _allies_. You saved me, I saved you – your sister.”

Snart, arm still in Rory’s grasp, legs still planted on either side of Barry’s prone form, looked down at him sharp and sudden in surprise. “You  _what_?” he hissed.

Barry swallowed. How long until Eobard came back from running away from the Black Flash? How long till Merlyn or Darhk came to check on them?

“We made a deal – an impasse and then – you helped me and betrayed me and saved me all at once and when your dad got out of prison –” He watched Snart’s eyes widen “ – when he put a bomb in Lisa’s head, my team saved her.”

“He…” Snart hadn’t even  _tried_  to dislodge Mick, and Mick was looking down at Barry too now, like this was news to him. He glanced at him then back at Len and kept talking.

“You didn’t want help but you needed it. Lisa came to my team, she trusted us and you… you let me help. Eventually. And I was there when you killed Lewis. I visited you in prison after, too. We _understood_ each other, Snart.”

The man looked shaken. Mick dropped his arm and he pulled it back, aiming for his neutral mask but it wasn’t quite in place. Barry recognized the expression, a shadow of how he looked after killing his father.

“He’s dead?”

Oh. Oh he didn’t even know. Of course, why would the Legion tell him anything that they couldn’t use to control him? 

Barry nodded with a half-crooked smile, jaw aching. He could still taste blood. “Yeah. He’s gone for good. You made sure he could never hurt Lisa again.”

The man stood up suddenly, retreating away from Barry. Mick was giving him a look he couldn’t decipher. Even in his Flash suit, he felt weirdly exposed now and it had nothing to do with the cowl being down. HIs heart was on his sleeve and beating too quickly. Thankfully, no one said anything about it. 

Mick helped haul him to his feet though, even though he had Bambi-legs with his blood sugar right now. Snart had his back to them, thinking, processing.

“Let me out of here, Leonard. Out of these cuffs, off this ship and – and maybe I can find a way to save you. A way that doesn’t involve the Reverse Flash or the rest of these guys.”

He turned, mostly glaring but Barry knew him well enough in any year to know he was considering it. Barry swallowed and pushed it. “You came to me to try to help me, once, before you went on this trip, when a few other uglies tried to get you on their side. Because somewhere deep down, there’s good in you, Snart. I’ve always known it. So let me repay the favor now.”

It was Mick, after a tense stretch of silence, who finally spoke. “Can you really do that, Red, or are you just talking out your ass?”

Snart glanced between them, tense. The hope on Mick’s face was almost too much for Barry to bear. “Time travel… isn’t as linear as it seems. The Spear isn’t a real solution either. But Eobard’s already messed with Snart’s timeline and if we don’t fix it now, he’ll never go with the Legends to begin with anyway. I have an idea but… you’ll need to trust me. And trust your team.”

Snart eyed him then, finally sizing him up fully. “We’re listening, Barry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized belatedly this would've been better posted as an episode coda piece. For more coda and episode rewrite type writing, see my [anthology of codas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061828/chapters/37501097).


	19. coldflash - michael snart, halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: What if Len takes Michael trick or treating and he gets lost???? And Barry helps find him because Len is literally freaking out.

 

 

Michael wanted to dress up like the Flash for Halloween and, well, Len couldn’t deny him that. It was cute, he decided, and put on his parka (minus the cold gun, but kept the goggles around his neck) so that Michael could have some extra mileage out of his little Flash costume, and he spent the day letting Michael ‘best’ him in ‘battle’. Secretly, he was happy his son wanted to dress up like the hero – it made him feel like he was doing something right, and sometimes he worried about that. He knew what it was like to grow up surrounded by criminals, and Len wanted more for Michael than anything he himself had had growing up.

What Len didn’t count on was so many  _other_  kids dressed up as the Flash. It was Central City, after all, so he should’ve known, but he really hadn’t realized there would be  _quite_  so many. There were little girls and boys – and some not so little, definitely teenagers – dressed in red jumpsuits of various quality and shades, each with a lightning bolt on the chest. He almost wished Michael had a more unique costume by the time Michael was trick-or-treating with a group of his friends, four of whom were the Flash. But Michael seemed happy, and Len was the only one of the parents trailing behind the group of kids who bothered to dress up at all, so he decided he got bonus points for that, at least.

It was all going great until around 7:30. It was dark out and he and the other parents were a good half-block behind the kids, Len dodging the atrocious small talk and PTA crap he couldn’t abide, when he looked up and realized he couldn’t see the kids anymore.

Leonard Snart was not one to panic. He looked at each of the houses in turn on the block, realizing he could count no fewer than fifteen Flash costumes but none the group of kids he came with and definitely not Michael, before he cleared his throat and calmly asked the three other parents who came out if any of them could see their kids. And though Len might not be one to panic, these people definitely were. It almost gave him a headache how one of them immediately started screeching. And it also did nothing at all to allay his growing worry.

“Let’s split up and look for them,” he ground out, because at least it would get him away from these suburban imbeciles. Michael went to a good school, Len made sure of that, but good schools sometimes had crazy parents connected to them.

Fifteen minutes later and no closer to finding his son, Len was starting to sweat. One of the other dads in the group caught up to him and asked him if they should call the cops. The answer to that was a very big  _hell no_  from Len, but he was ready to admit that they might need help.

He didn’t want to do this, but – “I’ll make a call.”

The other father went to continue trying to find his daughter while Len punched in the numbers.

Barry answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Kid – I’m calling in a favor.”

“A fa– _Snart_?”

“It’s a simple search party thing, should take you seconds.” He wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t seriously starting to worry. There were a  _lot_  of nutjobs in this city, Len knew only too well.

“Search party for what?”

“My son.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

Len gave him the address and ten seconds later, the Flash was standing next to him, in full regalia. Len almost smirked, would’ve if he wasn’t so tense. 

“You have a  _child_?”

“Find him first and then ask me questions with obvious answers.”

Barry frowned under the cowl, “What’s his name? What’s he look like?”

Len pulled out the pictures Michael on his phone, regular ones then one of Michael in his costume. “Michael.”

“He’s dressed as  _me_?”

“What did I say about obvious questions?”

“How long has he been missing?”

“Almost 30 minutes.”

Barry was gone in a streak of lightning and Len felt tense and relieved all at once. He was making his way back to where he’d agreed to rendezvous with the other parents when Barry appeared before him, Michael in his arms, and Len’s whole body relaxed like he’d been suspended on a tightrope till now. Oddly enough, now that he knew Michael was safe, it felt like the bottled-up panic was finally hitting him, stoppering up his throat, but Mickey was throwing himself out of Barry’s arms and into Len’s.

“DAD!”

“I’ll be right back,” Barry was gone and Len hardly noticed, clutching Michael to him.

“Where were you?”

“We turned the corner and Alex wanted to go down an alleyway because it was spooky and there was a haunted house and Jenny wanted to go in but I didn’t want to but she dared me and then we went it and it wasn’t scary but Alex started to cry and Max got scared too and then the lady asked us where our parents were and we didn’t know and I knew you’d be so mad at me and then we tried to find you but the haunted house had a back door that left onto a different block and Dad I didn’t  _mean to_  –” he was getting worked up, starting to cry and Len hugged him tighter.

“Hey, I’m not mad, kiddo, it’s okay, I was just worried–”

Barry reappeared before them, skidding to a stop. “I returned the other missing kids,” he said, a little sheepish when Len nodded at him from where he was kneeling.

“Thank you.”

Barry smiled, then, and Michael was pulling back from his arms, turning to look at Barry, tears already forgotten. “You’re… you’re the  _Flash_ ,” his voice was reverent, except that he sniffed at the end, and Barry’s smile grew. He squatted down to Michael’s level and his voice was warm when he replied.

“Looks like you’re the Flash too tonight, Michael.”

“YOU KNOW MY NAME!” he turned back to Len with a grin so wide it looked painful, “Dad – the Flash knows my name!”

Len had to chuckle. Michael’s costume’s cowl was down and he ruffled his son’s hair affectionately. “He sure does, son.” He couldn’t hide his smile, or his relief. He’d definitely have to have a talk with Michael later or the next day about not going where Len couldn’t see him, at least not without asking, but for now he was just happy the kid hadn’t been kidnapped.

“Mr. Flash, can I have your autograph?”

“Uhh… why don’t we take a picture together?” Barry asked, after patting himself down for a pen. Len wasn’t sure where in that costume he managed to keep a phone, or if he’d been at home when Len called.

“A PICTURE?!”

Len almost winced at the volume but Barry was eating this up, getting Len to – slightly begrudgingly but mostly just happy Barry was making Mickey feel so special – take photos of the two of them together. Michael was beside himself with glee, getting his picture taken with the real deal.

“Thanks for this.” Len held out his hand, wondering what he was gonna’ owe Barry for this. But Barry shook it with a smile and a look in his eyes that was altogether too soft.

“It’s not a problem, Len, really. He’s a good kid.”

Len nodded, “I know.”

Barry bit his lip, head tilting just a bit. “You know, if you and Michael have had enough excitement for one night and wanted to share some Halloween candy or pumpkin pie with me, I’m just watching movies and waiting for calls from Cisco back at my apartment. I don’t live too far from here.”

Len was a little tongue-tied. Had Barry really just asked him to come to his  _home_? For chrissakes, Len was even dressed in the parka! How on earth was that a good idea?

“Yes please!” Michael answered for him, bouncing on his heels, then jumping up and down when Len didn’t immediately agree. “Please, Daddy? It’s  _The Flash_!”

Len sighed, and looked up at Barry with a shrug, a little nervous despite himself but keeping that tension off his face. “So long as you don’t make me watch Nightmare Before Christmas, Red, you’re on.”

Barry grinned, “Beetlejuice it is!”

And, well, that turned out to be that, Len and Michael walking up the road behind Barry, Len holding Michael’s hand the whole time, still more anxious from him disappearing than he’d care to admit. But then Michael rushed forward and captured Barry’s hand in his free one, and Barry, after a moment of surprise, smiled down and Michael and walked beside them. Len couldn’t help the warmth in his chest that blossomed out from watching the way Barry smiled at his son, and decided that, well, maybe his son could grow up around more than just criminals, and it wouldn’t hurt to keep a few heroes around.


	20. Gen (or pre-snowells?) - Harry and the team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” Author’s preference :)

Harrison was willing to play nice so long as he had to. Zoom was watching, waiting, but Zoom was also smart enough to know that Harrison wouldn’t risk his daughter’s life just to be buddy-buddy with the Flash and a team of scientists who seemingly hated him for crimes he hadn’t committed. No, Zoom would trust that Harrison had a plan, which would only work in Harrison’s favor. Because he really hated losing, and losing to Zoom would be an insult. 

So for now, he was playing a dangerous game – pretend to help this ‘Team Flash’ in their quest to defeat Zoom so that he could learn their weaknesses, which would allow him convince Zoom he was acting as a double-agent aiding the dark speedster’s cause, while in turn  _actually_  being a triple-agent so that he could learn enough about this team and Zoom himself to finally defeat the man once and for all. Harrison was glad he would never have to explain his convoluted plan to anyone else, assuming all went well.

He was tense though and on-edge, unwilling to get close to the scientists running this mockery of what STAR Labs was meant to be, because he needed to be ready to betray any of them at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t personal, he reminded himself, when Caitlin Snow brought him coffee in the lab one night. She stayed there at odd hours, the product of having no one to return home to. She didn’t smile at him, just placed a coffee at his terminal and carried on, a noncommittal response to his ‘thank you’. It seemed that the team was interested in getting close to him either. It was probably for the best. 

He couldn’t help but see how Jay Garrick had cozied up to them though – how casually he touched Barry Allen and tried to mentor the younger man, how big Cisco Ramon’s grin was around him, and how much longing was in Caitlin Snow’s eyes when they tracked Jay around a room. Cozy, indeed.

It shouldn’t bother Harrison. He had work to do. Work that was currently using the STAR Labs computers to examine the genetic structure of a new meta-human that had appeared, one not from Earth-2. Without experience with this meta, the team had to start from scratch, and Harrison was willing to help if it meant ingratiating himself into the team. 

Barry Allen was reckless, threw himself into fights he had no idea how to win. Harrison didn’t  _mind_  per se – it was the same drive that had made the kid agree to fight Zoom – but it meant that Harrison’s encouragement was actually welcomed. It was almost…fun. Cisco was calling out ideas to Barry, Caitlin was reminding him to be caution, and Harrison was working through the best way for Barry to use his speed. They bounced ideas back and forth, and both of them started to finish his sentences–

“If Barry moves fast enough he should able to create a water current–”

“–and redirect the flow to trap Hydra Hunter! Brilliant!” Cisco slammed his fist on the table.

“But if he moves too fast he’ll end up creating–”

“A tidal wave, yes Dr. Snow.” Harrison was doing it too now. “Barry,” he called into the microphone, “you have to be careful with your speed here.”

Cisco called out the exact numbers, and Barry asked for detail. Caitlin and Harrison looked at one another at the same time, and like it was some old habit, she clarified for the speedster, and Harrison, a half smile forming on his lips, added an addendum to what she said, an added bit of encouragement for Barry.

The speedster was off, then, saving the day. But Caitlin was smiling at Harrison, almost shy, and he was smiling back. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

She laughed and shook her head, but the smile didn’t disappear. “Alternate dimension jokes are way too easy, Dr. Wells.”

He leaned back and smiled, “ah well, I’m a man of many talents, but humor has never been one of them.”

She rolled her eyes but she was still smiling when Barry returned to the lab, and Harrison noticed she didn’t look so long at Jay when the speedster returned later, and didn’t try to convince him to stick around after his visit.

Harrison had a plan, and that plan involved not getting close to any of the people on Earth-1. But plans change, he had to acknowledge, and maybe he could recalibrate for this to work out in his favor too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I don't really know what this one accomplishes, but I figured I'd post it anyway? It's almost an episode coda except not for any specific episode. And I kind of like Snowells and took it vaguely that way, but this is more gen than anything and doesn't hit hard enough to be a character study so??? Eh.)


	21. coldwave - mid 20's, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: a young mick rory and young leonard snart being adorable at a bad/time place, but everyone's already a little too intimidated of them to say anything

They were celebrating a job well done. As they fucking  _should_. What a haul! What a goddamn amazing haul.

Mick couldn’t stop grinning. Or drinking. The news was spreading fast. Len was a fuckin’ genius. He was. Mick was sure of it. That planning, down the freakin’ second, but it worked so  _well_. No one had ever pulled off a job like that. Mick couldn’t stop  _thinking_  about it. It was a thing of beauty. Getting out just under the wire, the cops holding their own hats in confusion, the goods being worth  _a cool million_. Even after the Santini cut and splitting with the crew, Mick was gonna have more money than he’d ever seen in his  _life_!

All thanks to the punk asshole he’d saved in juvie. Sometimes the world really did reward you for good behavior. Who’d have known?

Lenny kept grinning too. He didn’t often but there it was – ear to fucking ear. Just wide. People kept handing him drinks: beer, shots, whiskey, you name it. He was king of the world for the night tonight. Mick felt a pull in his chest. That kind of genius, of power and smarts, still so fucking young – he was gonna make enemies, allies, all of it. Len Snart was going places, that much he knew.

He had to go out for a smoke. It was too much, all of a sudden.

He never made it all the way there, though. Was making a beeline for the backdoor of the little dive when a hand caught his shoulder.

“Going somewhere?”

It was Len. ‘Course it was.

“Smoke time.”

“That so?”

He titled his head with a little smile like he didn’t believe Mick for a second, like he saw right through him. Motherfucker. He had that laser vision that always made Mick think he knew more’n he did. 

“Yeah.  _That’s so_.”

“You weren’t thinking of taking off?”

“Now why would I do that on our big night?”

Len stepped into his space, a little too close, whiskey breath. “You tell me.”

Mick wanted to punch him. God, he wanted to kiss him. “Don’t fuck with me, Snart. You run a good job but–”

Len’s lips were on his. Holy fuck, Len’s lips were  _on his_.

Oh he could get used to this. Rounded up Snart by the shoulders and switched their spots, had him caged against the wall in heartbeat. Oh hell yeah.

Len wove his arms around Mick’s shoulders and let him ravage his mouth like a starved man. He had more finesse than this but fuck he was drunk, and horny, and it was  _Lenny_. He’d been dreaming about this for months. He could show restraint later.

“Ah–umm…”

He pulled back and  _growled_  at the guy trying get their attention, the bartender. Mick didn’t even bother reaching for his own piece – he reached for Len’s, tucked in his belt.

“Got a problem?” he asked, not leaning back from Snart’s space, able to feel his breath against his cheek. He had his hand on the gun and the guy backpeddled fast.

“No uh– no.”

“Good.”

He didn’t bother waiting for more, just looked back at Len. “Now where were we?”

“Finding a room, maybe?” Lenny’s grin was crooked. It always was. Mick grinned in return.

“One more minute.”

Then he was on Len again, fused from mouth to hip, and damn if it didn’t last more than a minute before they collected themselves enough to get out of there.


	22. coldwave - mid 20's, established

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Could I have some fluffy Coldwave, watching a movie with stealth-no-one-admits-it's-snuggling?
> 
> (A/N: posted right after the previous chapter because they conceivably fit together)

They didn’t cuddle. It wasn’t a  _thing_  they did. They fought and fucked and drank beer and didn’t make a ‘thing’ out of any of it. Simple, easy, breezy. Just the way both of ‘em liked it.

It sorta made things complicated that they were roommates, but Lenny tried not to think about it too much. Mick was his best pal, worked on half the same crews as him, lived with him, and as of a few months ago, fucked him. Not messy at all. If it was anyone else, he’d have pulled a trigger in sheer panic probably, but Mick had a way of making crazy seem like it made sense, and anyway there was no way Lenny would ever hurt Mick if he had an option about it.

As it was… it was fine. Mostly fine. Fine until his sister had come over and wanted to spend the night because dad was drunk and angry (when was he not?) and there was no way Lenny was turning her away. Lisa was up to spending half her time at him and Mick’s now and he couldn’t find it in him to complain. That was another thing – Mick took Lisa in stride and treated her like his own little sister.

But that was the  _problem_. Mick being too…  _everything_  was the problem. And the more pressing problem was Len’s beating heart inside his ribcage. Because Lisa had suggested they toss on a video from the rental store around the corner and whatever, he had nothing better to do, and then Mick had strolled in off work at seven, grabbed a beer, and sat down right next to Lenny on the couch like it was nothing, arm slung over the back of the couch and way, way too close to his shoulder and Lenny wasn’t a goddamn teenager anymore so why the hell was that simple gesture making him more nervous than getting tossed into Mick’s bed and thoroughly debauched?

It was uncharted territory, this. Mick was warm, so warm after a day of working that involved physical labor, moving enough so that his perfect circulation kept him heated all the way through whereas Len never felt warm enough in a sweater and shirt and undershirt. So Lenny leaned a little into his side, trying not to be obvious, soaking up his warmth. He was too tense by a mile and Mick had to be able to tell but he just shifted a little too, tilted so that they were comfy. 

They didn’t talk about it. The movie wore on. It was something awful called ‘Clueless’ that Lisa had picked out and he was suffering through. Mick grunted, kicked his feet up on the coffee table and it brought their thighs into contact with one another. Lenny held back the hum that threatened to escape his throat.

They weren’t cuddling. 

Mick’s arm descended properly around his shoulder.

It definitely wasn’t snuggling.

“Beer?” Mick offered, as if that would make things less weird, then handed it to Len without waiting for an answer, half empty. Lenny took it and took a swig, handing it back. He avoided looking in Lisa’s direction, not even sure how to explain because this wasn’t something they talked about. Maybe one day, but he still wouldn’t know what to say.

“You cold?”

Was that Mick telling him to back off? He tensed. “Sure.” He started to move, but Mick nodded over at a blanket draped over the back of the couch and moved to grab it, arm lifting off his shoulder to hand it to him.

“…thanks.” Lenny just… gave in. He draped the blanket over his own lap and kicked his shoes off to lean his back against Mick and stretch his legs across the rest of the couch, his head tilted to fit under Mick’s chin. Mick’s arm settled back over his shoulder and down his chest now, like a hug.

They weren’t talking about it, but Lenny was smiling anyway. Sometimes complicated was okay.

(And over on the big cushioned chair, Lisa was privately smiling to herself too.)


	23. superwave (mick/kara) - pre-relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Not sure if you're a fan of superwave if not then no need to fill, but superwave meeting up after a long time maybe with some hurt/comfort thrown in?

It was just Mick’s luck that the latest explosion with alien tech knocked him into… wherever the hell this was. A city, somewhere? He was pretty sure he was knocked straight through a wormhole when he crash-landed into the downtown of wherever this was, but whether that made it another time period, another planet, or another dimension… who the hell knew.

Not him, that was for sure.

He hit the button to open the latch on the pod, mostly relieved it still opened and that the atmosphere wasn’t made of acid or something. He’d seen some things during his days as Chronos… he shoved that thought aside though, breathing in what smelled like good, regular, Earth air. 

His seatbelt wouldn’t come undone. He struggled with it, swearing, heard voices in the distance - no surprised, really, he’d crashed in the middle of some downtown and wouldn’t it be great if he’d just fucked up the timeline somehow - when he noticed.

Oh.

That was blood.

Great.

He heard a whooshing sound getting closed and the groaned of metal and had his gun out (being trapped by seatbelt wasn’t gonna stop him from fighting) when the whole door of his pod was ripped off and–

“Supergirl?”

“Mick? Mick!” her face exploded in joy (not the reaction he was used to) then horror. “You’re bleeding!”

“I know. ‘M also stuck.”

She flew closer, ripping off the seatbelt and he fell forward (his pod had crashed forward) and, well…

He wasn’t proud of it, but he might’ve passed out just then.

 

[ … ]

 

He woke up in a bed. It was warm and cozy and he was shirtless but bandaged, with blankets tucked right up to his chest. He blinked against hazy afternoon light, memories slowly sifting in.

He sat up slow, a little disoriented. His shoulder and warm were pretty heavily bandaged but the rest of him seemed fine, if a little tired and woozy. He was in… a bedroom. No way it was a hospital. All cute pastels colours like it belonged to a chick and –

Right. Supergirl. It clicked.

He grumbled quietly to himself, doubting the woman ever passed out herself from turbulence and getting smacked around in a space ship (okay maybe some blood loss too but who was counting), pulling back the covers.

He was… wearing white, hospital-issue boxers. These were not his boxers.

Did Skirt change his boxers?

He almost hoped so. Then he hoped not, in case anything embarrassing had happened while he was unconscious. Dammit.

And anyway, what the hell was he doing in her room? This had to be hers. Right?

“Mick?” he heard her voice through a couple of rooms over. Right. Definitely hers.

“In here.”

She rushed in in a yellow sundress with white polka dots and a ponytail in. After seeing her in that blue and red getup looking ready to take on the world, it was a little startling.

“Skirt, hey,” he scratched the back of his head with the arm that  _wasn’t_  in a sling. “What’m I doing here?”

“I thought you could answer that for me?”

“I know how I got  _here_ , just - " he indicated her room and she gave an exaggerated: 

“OH!” Then she laughed, because she was perfect. “Oh sorry, right. Someone from the DEO came and patched you up and they volunteered to take you but I thought you might be more comfortable waking up here instead? Thye said you were stable so I didn’t see the harm… was that not okay?” She winced and he shook his head, no clue who the DEO were but happy to be here.

“S’fine. Where’re my clothes?” 

She “oh!”d again, this time with some color to her cheeks. “They’re in the wash? I swear I didn’t - that wasn’t me. My sister Alex - well human sister because you know,” she laughed again, “I’m an alien - yeah she was here with the DEO, she’s basically a doctor, and anyway she put your clothes in the wash. They should be done drying any minute now, I promise.”

So Kara’s sister undressed him? Mick wondered if she embodied sunshine and goodness the way Kara did.

“Are you… feeling okay?” Kara asked and he realized he wasn’t been all quiet and moody.

So he grunted. “Got any grub?”

“Oh Rao of  _course_  you’re hungry! I’ll make you something! Or… how do you feel about potstickers?”

 

[ … ]

 

The potstickers were godly. Kara fielded phone calls about Mick’s welfare and promised to bring him into the DEO the next day for questioning. He gathered from the tone of the calls that it wasn’t so much that someone at this place volunteered to take Mick there so much as it was that Kara had fought tooth and nail to keep him here.

He didn’t know what to make of that though so he lounged on her couch and happily drank the proffered wine that was too weak to give him a buzz anyway (but apparently Kara didn’t have beer on hand so he wasn’t going to make a fuss about it).

She was still in that sundress and it was driving him crazy.

He was used to that, though. Wanting people and things he shouldn’t. Story of his life. It had just been so damn long since the last time he found someone he wanted to drag on to his lap, hold on to, and never let go of.

He let her put on a movie and watched her smile wide and comment that she was going to put on pyjamas and she looked somehow - magic, it had to be - even better in an oversized tee and boxers to beat the summer heat, hair falling everywhere.

This was a lot easier to manage when she was kicking alien ass. He’d always had a thing for people who could kick his ass, though, or at least hold their own, and she could do that with her pinky. The fact that she was both cute and powerful? 

Hell, maybe the wine  _was_  giving him a buzz, because he normally knew when to take his eyes off someone.

Because she noticed, and ducked her head with a shy smiled and asked him if he was alright and he had to come up with some dumb excuse but thank fuck she finally put the movie on.

“I love this part,” she whispered five minutes in and he had to laugh. She did it again not long later, and gripped his arm when the love interest walking into the movie.

“You go in for this romance stuff, huh?”

She blinked at him behind her glasses (glasses, that had surprised him), then her smile got sad. “No - I mean,  _yes_. I mean… I used to.”

“What changed?”

She curled her legs under her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “There was a  _boy_. Another alien. But we… don’t need to talk about him.”

“Someone was dumb enough to dump you?”

She started and laughed. “Trust me, I’m not all… and no it’s a little more complicated. He can’t come back to Earth though.”

Oh. Right. Of course, she was in love with someone who wasn’t there. Well, it’s not like it was any of Mick’s business anyway.

“It’s just –” she started, all fired up, then stopped herself.

“Out with it, Skirt.”

She frowned at him. “I’m not even  _in_  The Skirt, Mick.”

“Come on,  _Kara,”_ he grumbled, didn’t expect it to make her smile so wide.

“I just – okay y’know when you’re with someone and you think they hang the moon? And you’d do anything for them? You have these rose colored glasses on and all you can see is the good parts or the second chances you want to give them and you put up with it because you see the person that they can become even if they aren’t there yet?”

He started to sweat. Yeah. He knew. He thought about Snart standing with the Legion and ice in his lookalike’s back. But Kara was still going.

“But then you’re away from them for just a little while and you look back and the whole thing just starts to  _unravel_  and you realize they aren’t even who you thought they were and this whole time you thought they loved you but they were actually just  _using_  you and you–” she sighed, whole body deflating at once. “Maybe I should’ve picked a different movie.”

He had to laugh at that last part, though all of this hit a little too close to him. He swigged the rest of the wine in his glass.

“I don’t do  _feelings_  Supergirl, but uh, anyone dumb enough to use you and not love you is an idiot. And this is coming from a guy with the IQ of meat.”

“I – “ 

He chanced a glanced at her and she was smiling all soft and watery. He swallowed.

“Thank you, Mick.”

He nodded and leaned back in his seat. A minute later, she was tucked under his arm, which was resting along the back of the couch. Just far enough to not be cuddling, just close enough for him to say ‘fuck it’ to himself and shift into her space. She didn’t seem to mind. Her hair smelled like goddamn strawberries. 

“You know if…” she picked at the fabric of her pajama pants, “if you wanna stick around for a few days, maybe heal before you go home… I mean we can call Cisco anytime to get you back to that Earth, right? So there’s no rush?”

He smiled, heart thumping in his chest. “No rush at all. This place is better’n Aruba.”


	24. joesco (westvibe) - caught in the act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Barry and Iris walk in on Joe and Cisco. Turn about is totally fair play, right?

Oh this is, this is– Cisco doesn’t have the word for what this is right now but it’s something in the general vicinity of amazing and fantastic and wonderful but better than all those.

Joe’s hands in his hair are  _that_  good.

He’s really getting into it, hands on that broad chest – when did Joe’s chest get so broad? Was it always this broad? – hoping Joe is gonna roll them over sometime soon and get Cisco nice and trapped between him and the couch. His brain’s already short-circuiting and he knows it’ll be the death of him but what a way to go. He moans into Joe’s mouth and decides he can’t wait, swinging a leg over the man’s lap to straddle it.

Joe pulls back with a little giggle (Cisco loves that he can make Joe laugh, it throws his heart into overdrive everytime he hears it) and nuzzles his neck. “Impatient, baby?” 

That stubble on his neck is gonna be the death of him.

“Joe, you-”

Joe quiets him with a kiss and he’s not complaining, the opposite really, making some rather pleased noises when Joe decides to grope his thighs and pull them more flush and between the movement and Cisco’s appreciative sounds, neither of them catch the first sounds of the key in the lock.

They definitely hear the door open though, and the gasps.

Cisco’s off Joe’s lap like he’s been burned, hands already trying to fix his hair (lost cause, total disaster, took one for the team) and Joe’s pulling down his shirt from where Cisco had  _finally_  just got his hands up there but that’s another lost cause because it’s all untucked and rumpled (and delicious looking but Cisco tells his brain that  _now is not the time_ ).

Iris and Barry are standing in the doorway with saucer-wide eyes and he’s totally in shit for this one. In his defense, Joe is hot. And in Joe’s defense, Cisco makes him laugh.

(Joe keeps telling him that he’s hot as hell and he’s  _trying_  to believe it but Joe’s honestly so handsome that Cisco - he’s rambling inside his own head and forces his brain to focus on Iris, who’s stepped forward now).

“Dad!!”

Oh good, Joe’s in trouble more than him. Cisco starts to grin a little a Joe’s hands-in-the-cookie jar expression.

“I, uh, y’see kids–”

“How long have you and Cisco been – this?!”

Joe looks helplessly at Cisco, who also isn’t quite sure what ‘this’ is except that he’s a big fan. Cisco steps up to the plate though, and up next to Joe.

“About… a month?” That shouldn’t be a question but he looks at Joe for confirmation anyway. Barry, thankfully, has closed the door and has come to stand next to Iris with a little frown on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” he asks.

Joe raises his eyebrows. “Tell you that I’m dating someone your age?”

“Right” Iris says at the same time Cisco asks:

“We’re dating?” Really, it was the only important part of that.

Joe does a double take. “Are we - I mean if you don’t want - I shouldn’t assume.”

“Oh my god,” Iris whispers and sets about sniggering in Barry’s shoulder. “They’re like teenagers.”

“We are not like teenagers,” Cisco lobbies back, one of his greatest comebacks, truly one for the record book. “And hey, no,” he turns back to Joe, hand on his arm. “We could be dating. I like dating. Dates are great. Dates with you would be like - greater.”

He blushes a little because that came out terrible, but Joe is smiling so he’s smiling.

Barry clears his throat. Iris is smiling wide but Barry’s still got a little crease to his forehead.

“Sorry that we didn’t tell you, Barr,” Cisco tucks his hair behind his ear. It’s gotta be weird, right, that he’s dating his BFF’s dad? Sorta? Iris seems okay with it but… “We just were still sorting it out I guess ‘n…” he looks to Joe for support, who’s nodding, more tense than Cisco is and it’s no wonder why.

“What? No I don’t care about - I was just realizing that you two cheated at Taboo the other day - couples weren’t supposed to be on the same team.”

Iris is exclaiming and Joe is laughing and Cisco’s grinning and well, at least they’ve all got their priorities straight.

 


	25. coldflash - smut, TT outtake, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a prompt.
> 
> **This piece won't really make sense if you haven't read Tumbling Together. It's an 'outtake' from that, basically a scene that never made it into the final piece (and turned instead into far more hilarious shower sex).**
> 
> **Long story short if you don't want to read TT: Barry and Len are neighbors and have a pseudo-bet about Len seducing Barry before Thanksgiving.**

 

The quick knock was followed by the door opening before he could stop what he was doing.

“You home, Barry?” Leonard’s voice carried into the apartment. 

Barry flashed into clothes and came out from his room but he was still hard and hot and bothered and – “Len, what, uh, why are you here, everything ok?” 

“Great, kid,” he was smirking and it came off almost predatory. “Just checking what you’re up to?” It didn’t help that his eyes were raking Barry’s frame. 

Shit.

“Nothing! Just. Reading.” 

“Reading usually involve so much moaning?” 

He flushed, half disbelieving and already kind of pissed – “you could _hear_?!” 

“You left the window open and it borders on the fire escape.” 

He dragged his hands through his hair because – “Why are you here if you knew I was in the middle of something?” 

Len’s expression was _definitely_ predatory then, moving across the small kitchen toward him. “Did you forget I’m trying to seduce you? It’s in my best interest to make sure you’re good and sexually frustrated.” 

“Are you shitting me?! I can’t even masturbate now without you coming over to cockblock me? From myself?!” He felt to pull out his hair. He’d been so close. His pants were still a little tight. Len was right there. Nothing was fair. 

“Maybe I’m here to be a good boyfriend?” 

Okay, life was fair, but Len was not. And then he tapped on something on Barry’s counter and Barry noticed it for the first time. The box. The box with the— Barry’s face heated. “I—you—you’re evil.” 

“That’s why they call me Captain Cold.” 

“You know what, Len? I am gonna’ take that, and I’m going to use it, and I’m not gonna’ close the window so you can just listen in and be sorry you pushed me to this.” 

Len’s eyes widened and Barry was a little surprised at his own boldness. But he snatched up the box anyway with a determined set to his jaw. “Well?”

“Well, Barry?” 

“Are you leaving?” 

“You know I can listen in from here?” 

Barry’s his blush extended down his chest. “Are you seriously gonna’ sit in my apartment and listen to me get myself off?” 

“It’s kind of kinky.” 

He couldn’t handle this anymore. He grabbed Len by the shirt and turned and started marching back toward his room, not looking back because he was pretty sure he couldn’t handle Len’s expression right now. 

His room had a bed and a desk with a chair, not to mention his dresser and laundry basket and piles of clothes and—it was a little crowded. But he dropped Len into the desk chair before finally looking at him. he looked calculating and excited and curious all at once. 

“You will stay there. You don’t get to touch. Well. Yourself. But not me.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, just crossed the room and closed the damn window and then sat on the side of the bed facing away from Len because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t spontaneously combust if he looked over. He had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to get off, he wanted Len, but hell if he was going to let Len fuck him (bad as he wanted that, god he wanted that). And if Len was seriously about to listen in and jerk off anyway… Barry pulled off his shirt with his back still to Len and undid his jeans before Len spoke. 

“Barry, if you’re not actually comf—” 

“I’m embarrassed and horny and this is happening, unless you want to hightail it out of here.” 

“So long as you’re sure.” 

Barry could hear Len shifting on the chair and the unmistakable sound of a zipper. He swallowed hard and sped out of his remaining clothes because, well, it was easier than going slow and letting Len watching him shimmy out of his underwear. But then he was naked and he had zero intentions of sitting on the side of his bed so with a nervous glance over his shoulder—oh god Len was really there this was really happening what the hell was he thinking fuck—Barry shifted into the position he’d been in before, head on his pillows, laying on his back, and he closed his eyes and tried hard not to think. 

He was hard as hell and he could hear Len breathing. He swallowed and reached down and gripped himself again and gasped when he did, eyes fluttering open for a second before he remembered to keep them closed. His orgasm had been delayed and his body was more than eager to pick up where it had left off—the thing was, he’d had three fingers vibrating inside himself before, hence the moaning load enough for Len to hear, and he really wanted to get back to that. With a deep breath he opened his eyes and sat up to reach for the lube. 

And Len was sitting there, legs splayed, cock out, and Barry’s eyes zeroed in on him like an oasis in a desert. It was so big, but not just big, it was beautiful. Barry’s mouth watered. He told himself, firmly, that he was not going to suck on it. Len’s hand was moving on it, almost lazy, and if Barry had to guess, he felt like it might not even be fully hard. 

“Like what you see?” 

He snapped his gaze up to Len’s, and he could only imagine what Len was thinking, watching Barry watch him, naked and gripping his cock. Actually, he was probably thinking all the same things Barry was, which was mostly how ridiculous this was and how he really should just let Len fuck him. With that beautiful cock. 

“I’m not gonna’ stroke your ego, Len,” he decided, emphasis on the stroke. Then he reached for the lube and couldn’t help a cheeky grin when Len’s hand went from lazy strokes to a solid grip in the space of a second. He winked at Len for good measure then, feeling way bolder than he had any right to, he reached for the box. He had to take his hand off his own cock to open it, but it was worth it for the way Len’s eyes widened, the intake of breath. 

“I warned you.” 

“And you call me evil.” 

“You started it.” 

He had the dildo out in seconds, and without looking at Len—he couldn’t, he had some shame and he may have found that the tipping point was looking at Len while holding a dildo—he lubed it up. 

“Please tell me you’re at least gonna’ prep yourself,” Len’s voice sounded breathy and rough. 

“What’d you think I was doing before you showed up?” 

It would be a tight fit, still, because this thing was big, but now that he’d seen Len’s cock out, hard and flush and full—Barry stole another glance and it and wow, yes—he knew this toy still wasn’t as big as that. He laid back down on the bed and got to work, spreading his legs and reaching the toy between them. 

“Don’t suppose I’m allowed to move this chair for a better angle?” Len’s voice was tight and hot and god, Barry had the toy pressed snug up to his entrance. 

“Go for it,” he barely managed to gasp, eyes closed and body flushed as he started to breach himself with the hard rubber. He heard Len moving, the chair rolling, and then Len groaned at the same time Barry did and his eyes snapped open. Len was at the foot of the bed, staring at the space between Barry’s legs and for a second their eyes met and Barry might die it was so hot. This was probably a worse idea than sex. Sex could be fast and foolish. This was just a mess. A hot goddamn mess and he swore and arched when the toy pushed in further, brushing his prostate. 

“Fuck, Len—“ he gasped. 

“Barry,” Len groaned in response. 

It didn’t help that he was picturing the toy as Len’s cock inside him. It had been way too long since he had anything other than his own fingers inside himself. He was starting to vibrate, one hand returning to his cock and the other trying to keep a solid grip on the toy as his fingers shook and slid, moaning in earnest again. He was incapable of keeping quiet with anything up his ass—it felt too good. 

“Jesus Christ, Barry—“ Len’s voice was half groan half rough edges, “are you vibrating?” 

Barry couldn’t answer with more than a keening noise, pumping his hips. He pulled away the hand on the toy to hold it up and show it shaking, and after a few seconds he was composed enough to say, “it—“ he swallowed, breathy, “happens. Yeah. Accident, mostly.” 

Without his hand on the toy it was a little easier to think. 

“That’s incredible.”

“Come here.” 

“You said—“ 

“Come here and help me with this.” 

Len didn’t need to be told a third time. Barry felt the bed dip and he opened his eyes to see Len in between his legs. He was flush and pulled his shirt off and Barry’s eyes raked every inch of his torso, the muscles and tattoos and faded scars and, just, everything. His jeans were still mostly on, but somehow that almost made it hotter, cock out and straining, half dressed like he was too eager to bother getting all the way naked. Barry pulled his own hands away and Len’s hands were on the inside of his thighs. 

“Don’t fucking tease, Len—I’m aching here.” 

Len chuckled and the sound was divine and then he was kissing the inside of Barry’s thigh and again, life (or Len) wasn’t fair. He sucked on it and Barry decided giving Len permission had been the worst mistake of his life because he was mewling and not getting off any faster, but then Len reached for the toy and Barry revised his position. It felt so much different with someone else controlling the pace, pumping the slick toy in and out of him, pressing just a little deeper with it than Barry had been, making him gasp and writhe and press himself down on it, hands fisting the sheets. 

“Len,” he keened, wanting more, wanting this. And Len pulled the toy almost all the way out and pressed it back in and then his free hand went to Barry’s cock and he moaned loud, unable to control the volume, to control the way his whole body was shuddering too fast and Len’s hands worked him over, faster and harder until Barry’s whole body stilled in a long line of hard tension as he yelled Len’s name and came. He shook and quaked through the spasms of his orgasm, gasping in air before his body released all its remaining tension, relaxing into the mattress. He felt Len pull out the toy and felt sloppy and sated in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Len was staring down at him with open lust and Barry grinned up at him. 

“Oops.” 

“Some ‘oops’, Barry.” 

“Suppose it’s your turn to come.” 

“Pretty sure I can get myself there if you just lay like that.” 

Barry’s eyebrows went up but he smiled a little deviously and spread his legs a bit extra. There was cum pooled all over his abs and he was too relaxed to feel embarrassed, especially with the way Len’s eyes were skimming over his frame, clearly pleased. His hand was on himself, working it, and it didn’t take long before he was coming all over Barry’s stomach and abs. 

Len looked gorgeous when he came, flushed and hooded eyes and groaning. Barry was pretty sure that was a problem. This was all a problem. Letting Len collapse forward and kiss him sloppily after coming, making both of them sticky with the cum cooling on Barry’s stomach as their bodies slid together. But for the life of him, he wasn’t gonna’ be the one to pull away from that kiss first. 

And after a minute, Len sighed and rolled off him and laid back, smiling over at Barry. “Think it’s one-nothing for me.”

Barry groaned. He was going to have to up his game if he wanted to win Len over before Thanksgiving.


	26. gen - young rogues, fire hockey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: So apparently there is a sport called fire hockey which is played at night where in the puck is a roll of toilet paper wrapped in chicken wire soaked in kerosene and lit on fire. If you use good toilet paper it burns for about 10 minutes. This is the PERFECT sport for Mick.

Len squints at the scene before him in morbid curiosity.

“Is that–”

“On fire? Yep.” Lisa is completely deadpan.

“ _Why_?”

She points and he follows her finger through to - ah. Mick. That makes sense. He’s standing in the goal post at the end of the cul-de-sac. 

“How long has it been going?”

She shrugs and crosses her arms, leaning against the power company box that marks the end of the lane. “About an hour? He rounded up a bunch of the boys from Ells street playing street hockey and dragged them over here where there’s less traffic. Guess he got bored of you taking forever.”

“I was making plans.”

“Don’t tell it to me.”

It’s then that Mick seems to finally notice them and waves. His eye was fixed on the fireball that was their puck before that, but it appears to have burnt out finally. His stick is a little singed but so is everything Mick owns. Though he doesn’t normally play hockey, let alone street hockey, so Len doubts it’s his stick. Probably a donation from one of the neighbor boys, all of which are closer to Lisa’s age than his and Mick’s.

“Hey Lisa!” Mick calls, waving, “toss us another?”

Len’s ready to roll his eyes. “We’ve got shit to do, Mick!” he calls back, hands cupped around his mouth.

“One more round! It’s fast!”

Mick’s grin is wide and Lisa grabs a – is that  _toilet paper_? She lobs the roll in Mick’s direction and he’s quick to catch it.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

She’s smiling now. “No clue where he got the idea but I gotta say, Lenny – your friends are creative.”

He nods, bemused, and watches Mick wrap it up and douse it in what can only be one of the many flammable fluids he likes? Butane? Kerosene? Either way, the layers must keep it burning. Len can see how it works, the appeal, at least for Mick.

Now if only the jerk would stop stealing what’s clearly  _his_ home’s toilet paper and go to an  _actual_  hockey game with Len instead of complaining about the cold.

“One more round,” he says more to himself than anyone else and leans opposite his little sister. 


	27. gen - young snart sibs, xmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: My apologies if I can't send more than one prompt but I can't resist: Snart Siblings + Christmas? (Can be past or present)

Lisa sniffled and tried to hold back her tears; it was always a struggle when she got this frustrated but it this was  _hard_  and it was supposed to be easy – why wasn’t it easy like everyone else made it look?

She sat down on the ground in her room and resisted the urge to kick the present across the room, instead kicking the bed and wall, her backpack, pulling out her pigtails because they were pulling at the strands of her fine hair and making it hurt, wishing she was a grown up because they knew everything, wishing she just knew how to  _wrap a simple present_  because it was supposed to look pretty and shiny and not…. ugly. It looked so ugly.

Lenny knocked on the door a few minutes later and poked his head in on her tantrum and she tried to throw him out because  _he wasn’t supposed to see it yet_  but he always managed to make calming down sound like a good idea and eventually coaxed her to let him see the managed gold and glittery wrapping paper enveloping a box at odd angles and in messy ways (and she was happy he didn’t ask just where she’d got the wrapping paper or present from but that was another story).

“You weren’t supposed to see it yet,” she mumbled, curled into his side as he hummed and expertly folded corners, smoothed out edges, and used only a single piece of tape to hold the hold thing together, rolling up all the extra strands she’d tried to use so they wouldn’t snag on anything.

“See it? Why Lisey, how could I see if it I was never here?” He winked at her and snuck out of her room as she giggled and wrote her brother’s name on the gift label, big curving letters, and wrote ‘from Santa’ like she knew he always did on his presents to her.


	28. coldflash - smut, explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not actually a prompt, just a reaallly old piece I never felt like posting as a stand-alone anywhere. Barry runs into Len after S1 and decides to blow off some steam (how many different versions of that can I write?) .

 

After the mess with the Reverse Flash, after everything that had happened, Barry really just needed a night out (or several). After the rebuff from Iris (again), he also really needed some time off ladies for a while. Lucky for him, being bisexual meant being off ladies wasn’t necessarily the same as being off sex, because he really could use some right about now.

That was how he ended up at Evilution, a cheesily named but more than entertaining club catering mostly to the queer community. He’d made his excuses for a night off from Cisco, Caitlin, and the gang, dressed in a form-fitting red shirt and tight pants, and pocketed some of Caitlin’s newest speedster alcohol brew, ready to let off some steam.

That was also how he’d ended up the dance floor of said club, heavy beat, music too loud, a comfortable buzz in his veins putting cotton balls into his brain, rocking his hips and forgetting about being the Flash and forgetting about Iris for five minutes.

That was also how he’d ended up with cool hands grasping his hips from behind, a strong, muscled body swaying into his space, fitting next to him like a puzzle piece, picking up the beat and moving in time with him. He welcomed the feeling, body sliding along the one behind him, appreciating the other’s rhythm, the way their bodies moved together. He was buzzed enough not to care for a minute, to enjoy the music.

When cool lips brushed his neck, he stretched it out for them, pleased the other didn’t hesitate to suck on the exposed skin. The bruise would be gone by morning and he needed this. The hands from his hips slid up, dragged the shirt up with them, cold fingers teasing the skin of his sides. It was nice, a contrast to the sweaty heat of the club; he rolled his body and circled a hand up and back to run along the mystery man’s neck and up to his hair—short, cropped, coarse. He felt the other _hmmm_ against his neck and it shot straight down to his cock.

The man must have heard or felt him gasp because the next thing he knew there was a nip on his jaw and the word “Alleyway?” from low voice right next to his ear. He shivered, nodded. Maybe he should try to get a look at the guy’s face, but he didn’t really care. He was here for pretty much one thing anyway.

His back felt cold when the other retreated, and by the time Barry turned the other was also facing away, walking in the direction of the club’s side door. He pushed through the sticky throngs of dancers to follow, not losing sight of the other’s long and muscled back, wearing a grey shirt. He slipped another shot of the _very_ effective alcohol brew on his way, might as well enjoy himself.

He followed into the alleyway, something he might have hesitated to do a few years ago, but was relatively fearless now thanks to his powers, though maybe he could blame the alcohol for some of that. He didn’t give it a second thought. Not until he caught up to the man, walking away from the crowd of smokers at the club’s door, and noticed who it was. Then he felt his heart shoot up to his chest and had the brainpower left to wonder if that last shot had _really_ been a good idea.

Captain Cold offered him a sidelong glance and smirk. “Fancy seeing you here, Barry.”

He stopped in his tracks, ready to punch the man in the face. After this _fucker_ had the audacity to betray him, to release the metas from the pipeline, what the _hell_ did he think he was doi—

He didn’t get the chance to punch Cold, because Cold grabbed him and kissed him. His brain was definitely not processing fast enough, because he really should have sped up to stop that. Be stopping that. Because he wasn’t. Stopping that, that was. He was doing the opposite. He was, in fact, kissing Cold back—hard, apparently, and deep, more than a little tongue. Goddamn the other man tasted like mint and kissed like Barry was craving to be kissed—rough and ready.

He felt his back scrape along a brick wall. When had Cold walked him back against the wall? It didn’t matter. Hands were in his hair, tongue in his mouth, fire and passion at odds with the man's cool demeanor. He gave as good as he got—grabbing Cold by the shirt and hauling him closer, rocking his body up, pushing his hips into the other’s until he earned a low, rumbling groan. Then those lips were back on his neck, sloppier, angrier than before, biting and sucking, hand in his hair pulling, hand under his shirt sliding over skin.

He gasped and shivered, the night air cool, but had _no_ intention of letting Cold get the upper hand. He sped them around, pushing the larger man into the wall, hands on his belt, pulling it open while Cold got his footing again. Barry’s eyes flashed along with a challenging smirk when he pulled down the zip of Cold’s jeans, over his obvious hardness. Cold’s eyes were dark with lust, sliding his legs wider in an invitation.

Barry dropped to his knees, alcohol making him stupid and brave and too eager, liberated Leonard’s cock from his tight briefs. He licked the underside and circled his tongue around the head, sucking just the tip, feeling triumphant when a hand dropped to card into his hair, trembling just slightly at the way Barry teased him. Now _this_ made him feel powerful. He took pity on Leonard, sucking long strokes down his cock, using his hand around the base, sliding hand and mouth in tandem, listening for the rough and heavy breathing, the soft curses he was pulling from him.

Leonard whispered “Fuck, Scarlet,” and pushed his hips up into Barry’s mouth and Barry pulled off, ignored the frustrated growl, slid his tongue along each side of the thick and heavy erection, an idea forming in his brain. With a mental “fuck it” he recaptured as much of the hard length as he could in his mouth, clearly surprising Len who gasped, and then letting his throat and tongue vibrate all at once. Len swore, louder, fingers in Barry’s hair clenching hard, hips thrusting, but he was ready this time, hands gripping those strong hips and holding them in place. Len’s voice devolved into half-choked off swears and whines, clearly not expecting this, clearly loving every second of it. Before long his whispers increased in urgency, warning—“I’m gonna’—Fuck, I’m gonna’—” and Barry slid his mouth down on his cock as far as it would go, vibration nullifying his usual gag reflex, throat opening to vibrate all around Len’s cock. He felt Len come, too deep for him to taste it, swallowing it down; Len’s accompanying groan was _very_ satisfying.

He pulled off with a pop, the hand dropped from his hair. Both of them were breathing heavy. His throat felt _raw_. He’d just given Captain Cold a goddamn blowjob behind a club. What the _hell_ was he thinkin—

“Why haven’t we done this before, Scarlet?” Len was tucking himself back in, languid, Cheshire grin.

He stood up, unsure if he should finally throw that punch or just walk away. The booze was wearing off. “Murder, attempted murder, betrayal, sworn enemies, any of that ring a bell?” it was at least half self-directed. How had he forgotten that, exactly? But then Leonard was stepping into his space, hand coming to rest on the back of Barry’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. He let himself be kissed, hating how good it felt. When Len pulled back he was guiding Barry to stand against the wall, hands on his belt now. He nibbled on Barry’s lip and mumbled, “details,” in response to his question. Of course Cold would be able to overlook all the stupid shit _he had caused_.

Then Len was taking the position Barry had held a few minutes before, and he decided he could forget about all that again for at least the length of time it would take to get off. Whatever, Barry really needed a night of not thinking about the mess that was his life, and if that mess _was_ going to find him anyway, he would just willfully ignore the fact that Captain Cold and the Flash were trading bj’s in a dirty alleyway.

He brushed his hands over strong shoulders as deft fingers made quick work of his zipper and briefs. Then his cock was being palmed and licked and he dug his fingers into those shoulders because _fuck_ it had been too long. He tried not too act too eager as a slick wet tongue teased his slit and the precum there. Then Len was hollowing out his cheeks and sucking Barry down and the man, the man knew what he was doing. Barry gasped and bit his lip to keep from making any noises that would embarrass him too much. Within a minute his hands were vibrating and he dropped them from Len’s shoulders to press them into the cold wall at his back, trying to hold himself up as his knees suddenly felt weak. He gasped when Len kicked up the pace, tight hot heat around him, tongue along the underside, his perception distilled to that feeling.

When his hips started to roll in time with the movement of Len’s mouth the man pulled back and Barry had the crazy thought that he was about to say “turnabout is fair play” or something else that would drive him insane, but instead he sucked two fingers into his mouth and then returned to what he was doing and— _god fucking damn_ —those fingers came up and slid behind his balls to tease Barry’s entrance. He gasped (definitely didn’t whimper) and couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting again. Len circled a finger around and around, teasing, adding just a bit of pressure, enough to make the ring of muscle contract, and then relaxing back, driving him _insane_. It went on for what felt like eons, was probably barely minutes, teasing until his whole body, and _especially_ that part of his body, felt hyper-sensitized, wishing Len _would just fucking do it_.  From the sudden chuckle around his cock—another thing that made him gasp—he was pretty sure he’d said that last part out loud.

Finally, after a few more swirls that make him whine, a few more swipes of a tongue along the underside of his cock, Cold pushed both digits simultaneously into him. He swore at the soft burn, the sudden stretch, adrenaline too high for it to really feel painful, already too wanton to care. In seconds those fingers found his prostate, zeroing in on the tight bundle of nerves, thrusting into it unrelentingly, in time with the sucking and stroking along his cock. It was too much. His whole system hit overdrive, gasping and swearing and choking back noisy moans, everything vibrating which just made it more intense, thrusting himself back on Len’s fingers, forward into his mouth. A minute later he was coming, body shaking in violent tremors, eyes snapping open, rolling back in his head, pulsing orgasm rocking through him, everything going white.

Len carried him through the aftershocks, swallowing every drop before sliding his fingers and mouth back. He stood and stretched, wiping his fingers on the pant leg of his jeans. Classy. Not that Barry could really talk about _class_ at the moment. He sighed and sorted out his own clothing, too contented to care, more relaxed than he’d felt in ages.

“Y’know,” he mumbled, still a bit glassy eyed, “This might be the longest we’ve spent around each other _without_ an attempted murder or betrayal.”

He was pleased that Len chuckled in response. “So you’re saying that to work together effectively, all we need to do is have sex?”

He _hmmm’d_.

It wasn’t the worst idea he’d had, not by a long shot.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is so old it's honestly weird at this point. And if the wording on this looks familiar in any way, it's because I think I've used paragraphs out of this in other pieces because I never thought I'd post it so... eh? It's working title was "Looking for Trouble" in my drafts.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit [My Tumblr](http://coldtomyflash.tumblr.com/) for more of this. Prompts are typically closed but sometimes I'm in the mood to stretch my fingers.


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